The Lost Ones
by dppils
Summary: Harry and Ginny's relationship never took off after Voldemort's defeat. Instead, Harry finds himself seven years later single, miserable, and isolated. A change is needed, and an opportunity for that change presents itself when he is invited back to his true home. Not all is well at Hogwarts, and he will soon realize that not only his past can catch up to him, but also his future.
1. Chapter 1, Happily never after

Harry Potter did not want to wake up that day. His bed wasn't warm or soft, nor was it comforting or homely. Even still, he wanted to stay there, stubbornly clinging to the false hope that he could sleep his way through the day without anyone noticing. They would notice. He was _Harry Potter_ , after all. And this was _His_ day.

Of course, there weren't many days Harry did want to wake up lately. In fact, he could not remember the last time he rushed out of bed, eager to experience all the world had to offer him, and offer back what he could. Nevertheless, he had to to his duty. He was already awake - the morning owl delivering the Daily Prophet had ensured that. What the Prophet's first page would tell on this day was no surprise either:

 _ **Seven year anniversary of VOLDEMORT**_ _ **'s demise!**_

 _Today marks the seven year anniversary of the evil wizard_ _'s defeat at the hands of The Boy Who Lived, Harry James Potter. The memory of those dark times still lingers in the minds of all who were there to endure it, though even heavier are the memories of the loved ones we lost along the way…_

… _Voldemort, previously only referred to as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, had…_

… _Now head of the Auror department at the Ministry of Magic, Harry Potter…_

He skimmed the rest, only subconsciously picking up names such as _Neville_ , _Weasley & Granger, _and even _Ginny_ once or twice. It still stung a bit, reading her name. The passion between them never returned after Harry had reluctantly broken things off between them in the days before his Horcrux-hunt had begun. They tried, but.. It just wasn't the same. After Fred died, Ginny wasn't the same. And, though she did not know it, Harry had also died that very same day. And _he_ wasn't the same either. Ginny had moved on since then, married, a couple of children, a large house right next to the Burrow… It was all that Harry wanted once. _Still?_ No, not with her. But still… It stung.

Forcing himself from his self-pitying thoughts, he rose from his lonely bed in his small London apartment to eat something resembling breakfast. With not even a hint of an appetite, he settled for an apple and a coffee, imagining the scolding Molly Weasley would be giving him if she knew how bad his eating habits were. _"I don't care if you're the chosen one or not, I'll shove food down your throat if I have to!"_

A slight smile spread on his face as he took a banana to go, just to placate his mind's Mrs. Weasley. He was already late to his morning meeting with the rest of the Aurors, which was bad enough as he was their boss.

* * *

'All right there, Harry? You look a bit... Congrats by the -" said a faceless voice as Harry hurried through the ministry from the fireplace he arrived.

'No time, sorry!' he half-heartedly replied as his feet increased their pace from below him.

Several more people, more than usual (which was saying something, especially on this day), turned and spoke to him ( _at him_ , rather) as he rushed through the crowd of morning commuters on their way to work. It had become quite a habit to arrive late. Not only did it provide an excellent excuse to skip smalltalk and ignore well-wishers and fans alike, it also gave him the sense of being busier than he was. In truth, being an Auror wasn't half as exciting as he thought it would be, not least after the fall of Voldemort. Mostly, it consisted of paperwork, following false leads, bossing people around ( _alright, that wasn_ _'t always too bad,_ he admitted), and being a bodyguard to people who did not even know he was there. At least he had Ron with him, who always had a way to brighten his mood. Well, _almost_ always. Harry had to concede that even Ron seemed to be in a bit of a rut lately, probably due to him also slowly realizing that the life of an Auror wasn't as glamorous as they both had thought as children. And, as he found out a while ago, now _Hermione_ wanted children. But Ron… Ron wasn't ready yet. It's what he told Harry in any case, though Harry had suspicions that they had tried for a while without success - but he did not want to think about that. He'd even rather think about what today would bring, as he entered the Auror conference room to address his colleagues.

'Morning, boss,' said John, _no_ _… Jack!_ He really shouldn't be forgetting the names of his Aurors, even if they were newly employed.

'All well, Jack?' he politely replied. The rest of the Aurors glanced around nervously, except Ron, who gave a short laugh.

'Er- it's John, boss…' Jack ( _JOHN!)_ , said.

'Oh, uhm.. Sorry Ja… John. Busy morning, busy mind! All right lads and ladies, settle down.' He commanded, as Ron's laugh had spread to the rest of the Aurors. As usual, they obeyed quickly. 'You all know what today brings, we've been through this before. Well, not all of us. This is John's first anniversary. And Decima's as well, I believe.' He nodded towards the young, black haired girl sitting at the back of the long, oval room. She had joined the team less than a year ago, having graduated a Ravenclaw with top marks and captaining the Quidditch team as a Seeker. Her reputation had preceded her when she applied to be an Auror - Harry had even heard Professor Neville comparing Decima to _The-Boy-Who-Lived_ in more ways than Quidditch and skill at Defence Against the Dark Arts. She even had the same emerald green eyes as him! Though, he knew, it wasn't very likely that they were related. Which probably was for the best, as Decima wasn't shy about her intentions with Harry. She smiled brightly as he nodded. Was she wearing more makeup than usual? He should probably start speaking again, he thought as gave a fake cough.

'At one o'clock, the memorial will start by the Hogwarts Lake, where Ronald and I will be posted at the back of the crowd. Decima, John, Linus, and Averbo. You will be guarding Dumbledore's tomb incognito at the center of the crowd. I believe Sophia has concocted more than enough Polyjuice Potion for the whole day, and you have your assignments on your desks. Speaking of, Sophia and Jean will be…' Averbo's hand shot up. He was a tall, burly man with a far too grim look on his face. Harry didn't really know him too well, except that he was professional, strict, and good, _excellent actually_ , at his work. All the same, he did often and loudly question Harry's decisions. Not wanting his team to believe the wanted them to blindly follow orders, he often humored the man. He sighed, and gave the approval for the large man to talk.

'Thank you, Mr. Potter. _Ahem_ , I believe I would be more of use in the air, on a broomstick with you. We could be guarding the whole proceeding from above. Why should you-'

'Thank _you_ , Mr. Lind, but unfortunately..' He sighed again. 'I am expected to be on the ground, welcoming honored guests, being seen grieving, comforting, shaking hands, and so on… Trust me when I say I would rather feel the air breeze through my hair, sitting on a broom as far away as possible.' Ron gave him a mean look, before he quickly added: 'While still ensuring the safety of my friends, of course!'

Harry was sure nothing out of the ordinary would happen. Nothing ever did, ever since the day they were now having an anniversary for. Sure, then and now some small troubles brewed in the aftermath, though not for a long time… And, not for the first time, he felt a twinge of shameful guilt as he caught himself longing for the adventurous times of past. The days when his adrenaline was so palpable and his heart beat so loud he could actually feel them. Taste them. He did miss it, no matter how much he tried convincing himself he shouldn't. Everyone was happier now. Everyone, but him?

Averbo quieted after that, and no more interruption occurred as they finished preparing for the day.

* * *

Lunch. Lunch was easy, quick, painless. He would often sneak into different (always empty) rooms with a small bag of whatever his stomach fancied and whatever he could find on the muggle streets of London. But, as with everything else on this damned anniversary, today had a way of complicating things. Ron had forced Harry to eat lunch with him, which was rather unusual. He would always make a point of meeting up with his wife Hermione and eat a home cooked meal. At least that's what Harry thought, as they sat down in the same conference room they just had their meeting in. The rest of the Aurors had left, and weren't coming back for some time, so this was a good opportunity to catch up with his old friend on more personal matters, at the very least.

'So, what are we eating today?' Harry wondered.

'Oh, roasted 'taters, grilled ham, boiled vegetables.. 'tever you want, B _oss_!' he added with a glint. Harry had ordered him not to call him that, but Ron thought it was too funny to stop. 'Mum and Hermione always pack too much and you hardly eat a lot anyway.'

'Why aren't you eating with her? Had a row or something? She should come here, actually, I haven't seen her in ages!' Harry said, now noticing Ron seemed to look down rather quickly on his plate after he suggested they had a row.

'Yeah I know, she wants me to remind you that you are in fact not banished from visiting us any time you want. She has given up on owls, you know. What with you not responding to more and more of them. Do you even read them, Harry?'

Guilt piled up as Ron spoke. He did read them! Not very carefully, he admitted to himself… And, maybe he had skipped a few lately. But it couldn't have been too many. Though it was a while since he last wrote anything back. And it wasn't as if they had visited his apartment in some time.

'I mean, yeah, 'course I do. I'll visit, promise! Is everything alright between you? Is she alright?'

Ron looked at him, looking like he was trying hard to be angry at him. He failed miserably. He looked more sad than anything resembling anger. Harry felt his throat clench. His best friends… How could he have been so self-occupied?

'It's… She's alright. She actually moved out a while ago, but she's back now.'

'What?! When? Why?!'

'Easy, easy Harry. We just haven't really… We haven't been on the same page. You know, she wants kids, I kind of want them too, but it just… I don't think she believes me when I say I want kids too. I mean, it's been seven years. Ginny's got three kids now, and…' Ron looked up, red cheeked and looking a bit embarrassed.

'It's alright. You're right, it _has_ been seven years. Blimey… I am glad Ginny's happy. I just wish you guys were as well. Don't you want any children, at all? Even down the road?'

'I - I don't know. I thought I did, and I want her to be happy but I'm just so… I've been so happy with her. She took care of me, she cooked, cleaned, the whole thing. I don't want anything to change. I think she wants it though. Change.'

'Sounds like you should help out a bit more at home, though.' Harry suggested. 'Maybe start there?'

'I've tried, I'm just not good at it!'

'You don't have to be good at it, trying - doing your best should be enough.'

Harry realized this was probably the most personal talk they had had since their time at Hogwarts. It wasn't… _all_ bad. Maybe he should try it more often. It did sound like Ron needed it, and he would do anything for him. Ron toyed with his food, hardly eating anything. His cheeks and chin were sloppily shaved, and he had dark bags under his eyes.

'Though what do I know about relationships.' He added, trying to cheer up his friend. 'My last girlfriend was your sister. Voldemort was still alive back then!' That famous Ron Weasley smile came back, albeit short-lived and slightly faint. At last, his red-headed friend took a bite of food. 'I bet even Voldemort knew more about girls than I do!' Ron spat out the potato, laughing so hard he nearly choked on his tongue.

* * *

The clock read 12.24 as Harry and his Aurors were finalizing the protective spells around Dumbledore's tomb, and the path towards Hogwarts castle, where they would later continue the anniversary. In six minutes, half of the Auror force would disperse to their respective tasks while the six remaining were to stay on the ground as planned. The spells demanded some concentration, though it was mind-numbingly boring and, Harry thought, probably not necessary. Next to him, Ron seemed quite tense and focused - more so than he used to be when performing such menial tasks.

'Everything alright there, Ron?' Harry asked. Maybe Ron looked forward to the anniversary even less than Harry did. He had lost a brother on this day. It must've felt weird for him to see so many people smile as if the day was a happy one. Not all people smiled, of course. Nearly all who were there at the Battle of Hogwarts showed no sign of happiness at least until after the ceremony by their old Headmaster's tomb. Well, maybe not Luna Lovegood, but she was… different, after all.

'Yeah, it's just… Promise not to be angry, mate, but… Ginny's coming here today. Hermione too, I think.'

Oh. It wasn't the day that caused Ron tension. It was the looming awkwardness of being between his sister, and her former lover. Former lover of _seven years ago, Ron_ _…_ he wanted to remind him. Yet, his mind traveled back to the stinging feeling of reading her name in the Daily Prophet. He wasn't over her entirely, he knew. Ginny wasn't one to appear at these anniversaries, not since the first one. Harry turned to face his so-called best friend.

'And you thought to tell me when, now? When exactly are they coming? We aren't done with the preparations yet!'

'Well, that's really not what I was worried about mate, trust me. It gets worse. She's - er… she's…'

'Pregnant.'

Something took over Harry at that realization. Something cold and still. Not an icy feeling, but one devoid of warmth and time. As if a dementor had swooped in on him unawares. It really shouldn't bother him, it was her fourth child for goodness sake. But it did. And she did. And her husband did. Jealousy wasn't the right word, because he truly wasn't. It was envy. Envy, and a sense of injustice. Envy for the life he did not have. Injustice for the future that had been stolen from him while he tried to do the right thing. While he sacrificed himself and his relationship with Ginny for the greater good. But… What about his greater good? He could almost feel his blood boiling as made-up images of a large mansion next to the Burrow appeared in his mind, where three little red-headed children ran around being chased by a handsome father and a beautiful, and very pregnant, wife. Ron had said something blurred in the background of his preoccupied mind that jolted Harry back to reality.

'Harry, you alright? You've been standing there for a full minute, mate.'

When had Harry become so…bitter? What happened to the young boy who was so overwhelmed with joy and wonder at the magical world? He might have eventually survived that fateful day seven years ago, but it was beginning to become more clear to Harry that some part of him had died. Whether it would return, he did not know. What he knew, though, was that he could not, _would not_ , continue to think such hateful thoughts. Something had to be done. What that was, he did not yet know.

'Yeah, I'm… I'm alright. I will be, at least. So, when are they coming?'

'Er-'

'Hi there, Harry! Long time, eh?' she hugged him, as he turned around. It was a careful hug, and her very-much pregnant belly graced his not-so pregnant counterpart, but he could still smell her flowery-scented hair. She was as beautiful as she ever had been. And she looked happy, which was good enough for now. Her pretty black dress showed more curves than just that of her stomach, though, which teased him ever so slightly.

'Oh, hi Gin - I mean Ginny.' He gave a nervous laugh. 'Yeah, too long. How many kids have I missed, nine? Ten?' it felt a bit forced, but, she laughed. Oh, how he had missed that sound. Her sweet, almost snorted laughter.

'Three actually, coming up on four as you can see. But that's it, no more. Can't do it any longer. You guys are so lucky that you don't have to do this. Honestly! How in hell did our mum do this _seven_ times?'

'She did it six times, Ginny. Twins, remember?' Ron said. An awkward silence followed as their minds went to Fred, but Ginny's mood did not seem to falter, which pleased Harry more than it probably should.

'So. Harry! You've been knocking up any unfortunate girls lately?'

'Ginny!' Ron looked at his sister with a gaping mouth, not believing what he heard. 'Merlin's beard, woman. I know your hormones are all worked up -'

'Oh, come off it, Ronald. Go on, Harry, tell me which witches I need to curse and hex should they mistreat my favorite ex-boyfriend! I'm sure you've broken a few more hearts since this one!' her smile was so infectious that he could not stop himself from grinning ear to ear, even though he could not believe what she was saying. It was nice that Ginny hadn't lost her sense of humor, though. But he knew she didn't really think Harry had any children. The Daily Prophet would report any and all spousal activities about their precious _chosen one_.

'Favorite ex-boyfriend, huh? That's saying something, considering how many…' she punched his arm playfully, laughing with him as if no time had passed since they last made each other laugh like that.

'Guys, stop it! This is embarrassing!' Ron was now pleading.

'What's embarrassing?'

They all turned around to find Hermione Jean Granger, taking a few nervous steps towards the three of them. She looked a bit unsure, as if she thought they were having a row or arguing about something.

'Hermione! Oh, I've missed you!' Ginny flew into a hug with the smartly dressed best friend of Harry, showing surprising agility for a pregnant woman. 'Nothing's embarrassing, really. Me and Harry are just reminiscing about old times and your precious Won-Won here thinks we're making a scene or something! You know that I haven't seen this little git in - blimey… what? Five, six years?' she nodded towards Harry, and he felt his cheeks redden and that old familiar guilt bubble up. Hermione gave him an angry look as well, though it was at least partly mixed with sadness and disappointment. Harry had to look away as to not crumble in guilt.

'Yes, he has a habit of… doing that.' She said. 'But - Oh Ginny, you look wonderful! How do you manage to pull of that dress while _that_ pregnant?! I can't even do that now, and I'm not even a little bit pregnant!' Ron and Harry shared knowing looks. They sidestepped and walked some paces to the side.

'You sure you're alright? Ron asked again.

'Yeah. Yeah, I'm glad actually. She seems very happy. She deserves that.'

'So do you, mate. Don't forget that. I know what you gave up for her, I won't ever forget _that_. But please, try and… Try and show up to my and Hermione's once and a while, alright? We - we miss you more than you think.'

'How about you then, are you alright? Hermione seems quite keen on the whole pregnancy thing, I have to admit.' They looked over to the two chatting girls. They had grown into beautiful, strong women. Harry knew he loved them both, and admired them. And wished that Hermione would look as happy as Ginny did. 'Maybe it _is_ time that you, you know, _knocked her up_.' He winked, not minding the slightly too hard second punch to his arm.

'What are you too talking about, then?' Hermione popped in, eying them both with a look that reminded Harry far too much of Professor McGonagall.

'Talking smack about you, of course!' Harry joked. He gave her a hug, which she seemed a bit reluctant to return. Though when she did, she squeezed a bit extra hard at the end, as if she did not want to let go.

'I'm still angry with you, young man!' now she really reminded him of McGonagall.

'I know… Sorry Hermione, it's just been... It's been hard.' He didn't really want to make excuses, but he needed to defend himself somehow.

'Hard?! Harry, I'm - _we_ _'re_ your friends. We're supposed to be, anyway. If something's hard you're supposed to talk to us! Not disappear for weeks, _months_ at a time! Merlin, I haven't seen you since… You missed my birthday!'

'Sorry! Sorry! You know I'm terrible at that stuff. I never celebrated birthdays when I was little, you know…' he tried.

'That's not going to work on me, Potter! I expected more of you. I've…I missed you, you idiot!' she hugged him again, tears now wettening her cheeks.

'I missed you too, Hermione… I'm sorry.'

Ron stood beside them, backing away slowly to his sister. Harry noticed Ginny was smiling, as if she was enjoying the scolding Harry was receiving. That smile… It would never stop making him happy.

'Let me make it up to you today.' He said. Hermione looked up at him, still tight in their hug. She dried her tears on his shirt, which he didn't mind at all.

'It's going to take more than one day's work, Harry. You've missed so much, you know.'

'I've heard bits and pieces from Ron. We work together, remember?'

'Has he told you I'm going back to Hogwarts?'

'What?!'

'Thought so. I'm… I accepted a teaching job. I'll be taking over after Professor McGonagall as teacher of Transfiguration. She's Headmaster now full time, and needed someone to assume teaching duties.'

'That's great, Hermione! You'll _be_ great! The kid's will love you!'

He wasn't sure that last part would be true, but she would probably be respected. For her famous name and deeds, if nothing else.

'Thanks… I'm a bit nervous, actually. I've never taught before, and -'

'Nonsense! You taught me and Ron every single school day for six years. Trust me, if you could handle us when you were that age, you'd have no problem teaching a classroom of Peevees'!' she laughed, wiping away the last moisture on her red cheeks. 'Listen, I am really sorry. Truly. I've been a terrible friend. But -' he looked over to Ginny, who by now was talking with Ron and some other old friends of theirs. Seamus and Dean were there, of course.

Hermione seemed to notice.

'I know it can't have been easy, Harry. It's… it's not fair. What you did, what you gave up for everyone else but you to be happy… It's not fair.' She repeated. Hermione did always have a way of putting precise words to abstract thoughts. How right she was, he thought.

'I am happy for her, Hermione. I want to be happy for you and Ron too! But, I just - I don't think I can handle the thought of losing you too. When you start a family of your own. It's like… I'm conflicted between wanting what's best for you two, and selfishly wanting what's best for me. I know it's awful and all -'

'It's not! I get it, I do. Not that you need to know it, but I don't think we're starting a family any time soon, so there's really no need to worry on that account.' Her frown betrayed her somewhat annoyed feelings at the truth of that. Harry knew it, of course, but said nothing. 'And the teaching job isn't exactly going to help, with me missing for the better parts of the year…'

'Hermione. You'll be great. And I'll make sure Ron makes sure you're happy.' He smiled at her, as genuine as he could. The world's longest hug finally coming to an end when Ron came back to ask for his wife back and reminding Harry that the first event of the day was about to begin.

* * *

The Great Hall was as magical as ever, repaired to her former glory long ago and still glistening with the stars and planets of the night's sky when looking up between the floating candles. Smaller tables covered the floor, replacing the long tables of the Hogwarts houses for the day. Harry was seated with Hermione, Ron, Neville, Luna, Seamus, Dean, and Ginny, who sat to his right (when she wasn't running off to pee half the time, at least). The ceremony at the tomb had been quite somber, but the dinner in the Great Hall was always a somewhat more jovial affair. Neville was telling Hermione all about being teachers, what to expect and how to prepare, while Luna and Ginny talked about their pregnancies. Ron, Seamus, and Dean talked about Quidditch, which Harry sometimes joined in on, but more often, he found his eyes wandering around the room, to the different people gathered to celebrate their momentous victory, to his Aurors stationed around the room, and often to the enchanted ceiling above, which filled him with nostalgic feelings of happiness and longing. More so than during any other anniversary had done so far. Seven really was the magical number, it seemed. Or was he just really missing this place?

'Are you feeling quite well, Harry?' asked Luna as Harry rose from the table.

'Yeah, just - you know, powdering the ol' nose a bit, Luna.' Ginny giggled. 'Won't be long!'

'That's a lie, Harry Potter!' Luna cried after him, with her dreamy voice as calm as ever.

He didn't really know where he was going, so Luna had been telling the truth. Decima stood by the entrance though, looking like a completely different person under the influence of Polyjuice Potion. She was wearing the skin of a young blond muggle, with a round nose and blue eyes. Her bumpy forehead and chubby chin were a far cry from her normally glowing skin and sharp cheekbones. Harry walked towards her, acting as if he was going to check up on how her duty was going.

'Hi, Hannah.' He made the name up. 'Fancy seeing you here.'

Decima turned around, smiling knowingly towards her boss.

'Hey Boss. No one can hear us, you know. I cast a silencing charm around the entrance.'

'Clever. And the others? Noticed anything odd?'

'Not really. Linus and John are investigating some noise in the corridors, though.'

'Right. Well, keep at it. Good work.'

He turned around, only to come face-to-face with Professor McGonagall.

'Potter. A word, if you please?'

'Of course, Professor.'

'Minerva will do, to you I'm no Professor any longer. In fact, that is what I wish to speak to you about. We're a teacher short, Potter.'

Decima's fake face looked a bit worried at this, though Harry turned his attention back to his old professor when he had processed what she had said.

'Oh. Sorry to hear that, prof… Minerva.'

'Don't be sorry, Potter. Be the solution. It's the Defence Against the Dark Arts position.'

'And?' he asked. McGonagall looked incredulously over at "Hannah".

'Has he always been this slow? I'm sure you were a bit more quick thinking when I taught you, Potter. I wish for you to become a teacher. Here. At Hogwarts.'

'I - what?'

'You've already done it once before, when we had… _Umbridge_ ,' she cringed at the name. 'And I know being an Auror is what you dreamed about, but I can't fill the position without at least having asked you about it.'

He was stunned to silence. Return to Hogwarts? It wouldn't be the same, of course. It'd be… different. Maybe different was what he needed? Maybe this was the change, the new beginning he sought, served on a platter for him to grab. And Hermione would be here! But… Ron. He wouldn't miss his job, but he would miss his best friend.

'Do you need an answer now?'

'Heaven's sake no, but consider it at least. I'll need the answer tomorrow,' she said, nodding to Decima and striding off.

It was… Too much to ponder at this moment. Too big of a decision to make now. It needed time to settle, time to rest in his mind and to be contemplated thoroughly. Even though parts of him wanted to scream after her that he accepted, other parts thought about his best friend. The red-headed one, that is. Could he do that to him? Ron had grown to dislike the ministry job as much as him, and he knew that he would be quite cross with him if he left. Especially if he left _with_ his wife. Harry had not forgotten that night all those years ago, when Ron had returned to destroy the locket, their first Horcrux. The visions of Harry and Hermione, the kissing, the lying… It was playing to his jealousy, to his fears. Fears that Harry knew were extinguished by now, but… They could always be rekindled.

'Are you going to do it?' Decima asked, snapping Harry back to the Great Hall. Harry had forgotten she was there, jumping at the unexpected words.

'Do what?'

'I'd miss you, you know. Ron too. You're a good boss.'

'Oh. Yes, thanks.' He fumbled awkwardly. 'Not really decided yet, to be honest. I'd probably miss my better half too much!' he said, though whether he spoke of staying and missing Hermione, or leaving and missing Ron, he could not say.

* * *

The day was coming to an end, and after Ginny had said good night and lightly slapped Harry again for "acting like a stranger", the former classmates agreed to continue the evening with two or three rounds of butterbeers in Hogsmeade. Harry dismissed his remaining Aurors, except the ones who were still following some strange lead in the castle. Decima followed the classmates, having now returned to her former and prettier self, much to the amusement of the rest of the gang sitting around the table in the Hog's Head who saw it happen live. The alcohol and the laughter gave way to glancing touches between Decima and Harry, sometimes followed by knowing looks, leading to more and more physical contact until it no longer was a surprise that they all of a sudden found themselves tangled up in Decima's bed, turning the last moments of the night into a blur of kisses, exposed skin, firm grabs, and even some light spanking, though he might've dreamt that part.  
What Harry _was_ surprised by was the fact that he was still there when Decima woke up - he would usually leave before his partner of the night had a chance to see him again. A habit he wasn't particularly proud of, yet seemed to be for the best. Yesterday's events had urged him to stay, to change his ways, he thought. Or maybe it was something else. Was he falling for this girl? It didn't feel like his last love, Ginny… but it felt more real and passionate than any of the other women he had been with since. At least, he did not want to hurt Decima as he knew he must have hurt others. Though the night had been amazing, he didn't feel compelled to make this a regular occurrence with her.

'Good morning,' she said, her naked body edging close to his. Her breasts stroked his chest as she cuddled up closer, and her soft legs and hands caressed his skin lovingly.

'Good morning, Decima,' he replied, sounding a bit colder than he had intended. He quickly gave her a kiss on her forehead. 'Last night was… amazing,' he felt as he repeated himself. 'Did we… did I spank you?' he nervously asked. Decima laughed at him.

'I think I told you to but you didn't do it. Coward!' she laughed again, tickling him in the ribs.

'I didn't want to hurt you! Besides, I'm your boss, and -'

'Not last night, you weren't,' she said. Harry messed up her hair and laughed at her petty attempt to "win" last night's tussle.

'Don't think I won't wrestle you into submission, you sly little fox!'

'Don't think I wouldn't mind, _Boss_.' She winked. 'How'd you know my Patronus?'

The morning was as good as the night had been. An excellent breakfast of eggs and bacon (Harry made the eggs) followed more endeavors in the bedroom.


	2. Chapter 2, The new beginning

'Harry James Potter!' It was Hermione. Of course it was. They saw each other not ten hours ago, she couldn't possibly be angry about him not sending an owl or visiting already. What had he done? 'When were you going to tell me? And…' she took him by the arm and led him aside from his office, casually casting a silencing spell as the rest of the Aurors (including Ron) were now staring at this highly unusual sight. 'Snogging your _colleague_? Employee even! We'll have words about this, this won't fly if you're at Hogwarts!'

' _If_ , Hermione. I haven't accepted yet.'

'Yes, well, _if_. It's highly unprofessional!'

'What do you care? Besides, I might not even be her colleague in a few days. I see no harm in it!' Harry started to get a bit annoyed, not least because his head was still throbbing from last night's heavy alcohol consumption. Hermione did nothing to ease the ache, though.

'And when were you planning on telling me? Have you told Ron? Are we just not friends anymore?!'

'I _just_ found out, Hermione. McGonagall asked me yesterday, in the Great Hall.'

'Oh.' She seemed to mellow a bit, perhaps embarrassed at her outburst. 'Well, are you going to accept?'

Was he? Looking around, all the Aurors were still staring at them, though unable to hear what they were saying. Ron had a confused look on his face as he approached them, each step closer feeling like a countdown for Harry's impending decision. Ron was going to be furious…

'What's going on? Hermione, why are you harassing my boss? You alright, Harry?' he seemed cheerful though, not knowing what Harry was going to say. Hermione glared at Harry, urging him to explain the situation before she did.

'Er - Ron. I've got something I need to tell you.'

'No, no no no no, NO!' Ron was shaking his head in disbelief. 'You are NOT leaving me here with this lot. No. NO! I won't have it! Hermione, tell him! I need him here, go on, tell him!' Harry was quite impressed that his best friend had guessed what this was about so fast. Maybe he had been worrying about this for some time… It did not ease Harry's conscience.

'I believe Harry is entitled to make his own decisions, Ronald.' She reminded him, coolly.

'No he's not! He owes me, the bloody git!'

'Owes you? What exactly?! You left too, remember! In far more dangerous times as well, if you recall -'

'I came back!'

They continued like that for a while, arguing about whether Harry had a right to leave, whether he was allowed to make such decisions on his own. Ron's voice was desperate, while Hermione's more logical. Neither actually seemed to interested in what he actually wanted, though. They sounded more concerned with what they wanted. Suddenly, Harry didn't feel so bad.

'Ron,' Harry said, finally interrupting their altercation. 'I love you mate, but I have to get out of here. You know that. This place - it's turning me… Turning me into something bad, something I don't want to be.' His friend looked paler than usual, his freckles standing out clearer on top of his pearly white skin. 'Maybe you need to leave, too.'

'And go where? While we're at it, were are _you_ going?'

'Er - now don't get mad, Ron…'

Again, he gave his friend far too little credit. As soon as he said the word "mad", Ron's eyes widened in disbelief and shock, carrying the look that he had just solved the puzzle. Why Hermione was there. Why Harry acted so… weird, with Decima last night. Everything fell into place, it seemed. His demeanor changed. No longer betrayed and angry - instead, defeated, and bereaved.

'Oh.' Ron understood. 'So, you'll both be teachers, eh? Lovely. Just… Just lovely.'

Ron stalked off as Harry and Hermione stood there, avoiding each other's eyes at any cost. Eventually, Hermione said something about having to pack, leaving Harry alone to face the stares of the Auror office. Sighing, he made his way to his colleagues, gathering them around for what would be their last meeting with Harry in charge.

* * *

The last two weeks had passed in a blur of planning, paperwork, correspondence, and short visits to the Weasley & Granger household. Ron was still quite upset, infecting Hermione's mood as well. He did lighten up more than once in the last days, especially when he heard that he had been awarded the job of Head of the Auror Office on a temporary basis, at least. Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt understood Harry's decision without question, and had even agreed to appoint Ron as Harry's successor on his recommendation. Hermione was happiest when the three of them wandered the streets of Diagon Alley to browse for books on teaching, transfiguration, and defence against the dark arts. It did remind Harry of old times, even though Ron and Hermione had always been closer before. Now, there was a visible distance between his two best friends. They didn't hold hands, they never kissed, and sometimes bickered without that loving banter that they always used to have. Sometimes they would hug, and Hermione would get a bit teary eyed, whispering choice words in Ron's ear which had a positive effect on his mood. But often, Ron made snarky comments or mean remarks - which served no purpose other than infuriate his spouse.

Decima never returned to her flirting behavior with Harry after she found out he was leaving, but they weren't unfriendly. On the contrary, they often found themselves sharing lunches when Harry visited the ministry for the last paperwork or handing over of tasks and such. She did not seem too bothered about him leaving the Aurors, more so about the fact that he was leaving right after they had spent their first night together. Yet, she did not bring it up, which Harry was eternally grateful for. Decima was not acting sentimental or "emotional", he thought. She was acting logically and almost calculative. A true Ravenclaw, indeed.

It had come to the last day before teachers were to gather in the school. An invitation to the Burrow lay on his window ledge, promising dinner, old friends, and a chance to say something - anything, to Ginny. Their last encounter had made him so happy, so relieved that he couldn't wait until they met again. She was his drug, and he had been away far too long. Maybe his depression these last years had been literal withdrawal symptoms. Maybe him drifting from place to place, day to day, was due to the fact that he was lost without her. Whatever the truth was, he knew that he needed to see her. At least to say goodbye before he went back to Hogwarts, before he would try to change his life around for good.

'Harry! Harry's here everyone!' Mrs. Weasley shouted out into the tall house that was the Burrow, before she pulled him into an angry hug. 'And where have you been?! I've been worried sick about you! Years! Years without an owl, without a visit, without word about how you are… Have you eaten today?! Oh, Harry!' she hugged him again, this time with more maternal love than anger.

'Look who fancied to show up!' Ginny mocked, still carrying an ever larger belly.

'If it isn't the chosen one himself! Honoring us with his presence once more! Praise Merlin, praise Harry Potter!' George received a smack to the back of his head from Hermione, while Ginny laughed, agreeing with his sentiment.

Mr. Weasley shook his hand, Percy as well, while Bill and Charlie were absent. Ron was supposed to be there, but according to Hermione felt "unwell". A man a head shorter than Harry appeared between the masses of Weasley's, looking oddly familiar. He was quite stocky, wore a beaming smile, and short cropped hair. It was, of course, Ginny's husband. Clinging unto him were their three children, all with flaming red hair.

'Wood?' Harry asked, a bit louder than he thought. How did he not know Ginny was married to his old Quidditch Captain Oliver Wood? Surely, Ron must have mentioned it. His mind raced through past conversations where Ron might have said the words "Ginny", "Wood" or "Married", scanning his brain like a muggle search-engine. Nothing came up.

'Hi there, Harry! Alright?'

'Er - yeah. Yeah, long time!' he shook the hand of the man who was the cause of Ginny's happiness. The happiness that Harry wanted to be the cause of. The rest of the Weasley family, including Hermione, stared quietly at the two former friends. It was enough for Harry to try to break the tension with the first thought that popped into his thick head. 'You've been busy!' he nodded at the two children at his feet, and the youngest on his shoulders. 'Who might these be, then?' he tried a smile towards them.

'This,' Ginny came in to save the awkward encounter, grabbing the child who hung onto his father's shoulders. 'Is Fred. He's the oldest. Unfortunately, he has inherited his namesake's talent for trouble.'

'And with no George of his own to reign him in, a job I was severely under-appreciated for, I might add, he runs amok!' George added, messing up the young Fred's hair. The little boy laughed at his uncle, stretching out from his mother's arms. 'Georgie, I want Georgie to hold me!'

Ginny gave in, letting her brother hold him.

'Our twins are down there, by my husband's feet. As you can see, they are quite inseparable. They're named Hermione,' Ginny explained, causing the older Hermione to blush slightly. 'And Harry.'

Harry? It couldn't be… There must be some other relative he was named for. Not him. The little Harry smiled a toothless smile towards him with his freckled face. His sister looked more scared, reaching out to her brother for a familiar touch. An eager silence had spread in the Burrow, as the current occupants seemed to await Harry's, the older Harry's, reaction. But Harry did not know what to say. Nor what to do. Should he pick him up? Thank them for naming their son after him? He could kiss Hermione for breaking the silence that seemed to last an eternity as he was staring at Ginny's youngest son. Well, _youngest for now_ , he thought, taking a look at her pregnant belly.

'I'm sure Harry's proud to have your son named after him. I know I am. Right Harry?'

Harry stumbled with some words, before looking up, beaming with pride. He was proud. He was happy. It was… perfect. He pulled Oliver and Ginny into a hug, silently thanking them. A relieved Weasley household seemed to breath out and relax at this, though Ginny never expected anything else judging by her reaction. She did know him well, after all.

'Do you want to hold him?' she asked.

'N-no, no I wouldn't know what to…' but it was too late, the young ginger Harry was already in his arms. Hermione was holding her young counterpart as well, so Harry turned to look at her example to make his arms more comfortable for the child. She seemed good at it, as the young Hermione looked quite settled and at ease in her aunt's arms. When little Harry yawned in his arms, something cold and wet trickled down his cheeks. Ginny laughed at him, giving him a small peck on his now moist face. Mrs. Weasley was also crying, while the rest of the present Weasley family looked on with joy. Hermione gave Harry a look before quickly returning to stare at the child in her arms. She wanted this, he knew. She wanted this with Ron, and she was imagining holding their child at this moment.

* * *

Not long after, Harry found himself wandering the Burrow in anticipation for the dinner. He wanted to take a look at the rooms he had stayed in during his last visits here. The room he and Ron shared. The room where he and Ginny lost their innocence to each other… This was his old home, more so than Privet Drive 4 had ever been. Even more so than his current apartment. The Burrow, and Hogwarts. And now he had excuses to return to both. Little Harry would never be years away from him ever again, he would make sure of that.

He sat on Ron's old bed, the room still clean and decorated as if he was still living here. Quidditch posters, Gryffindor-scarves, broomsticks, match-sweaters, tickets… Loads of personal memorabilia hung from the walls. Pictures of the trio adorned the cupboards. He wished his friend was here to share this moment. This last moment before his life would change more than it had done in seven years. But he was "unwell", and Harry knew why. And, more importantly, he understood why, and did not blame him for it.

'Mind if I join you?' Harry expected it to be Ginny, but Hermione's head peaked in the small opening of the door. At least he would have one of his best friends here to share this moment.

'Not at all. I'm just… just reminiscing. Thinking about little Harry, and little Hermione.'

The older Hermione went and sat next to him on the bed. Ron was sorely missing from the scene. They shouldn't be there without him. He should have been there when Harry met little Harry for the first time. As much as he loved that man, Ron could be just as stubborn as him when he wanted to.

'How is he?' Harry asked.

'Happy, I think. Haven't seen him smile like that for some time. We've talked about you a lot, promised that you would visit and say hi. I think he's missed you, even though he doesn't know you.'

Harry was confused. _Doesn_ _'t know me?_ He thought. Then it dawned on him.

'Oh, I meant Ron.' He laughed, as Hermione blushed. 'But I'm happy to hear that about little Harry. Hermione seems to like you, though. You're very good with her from what I've seen!'

'She's a little rascal that one, hasn't inherited a single trait from me! But I do love her so much. I wish…' she took Harry's hand and opened her mouth to speak, but her tongue could apparently not find the words her heart wanted to her to say.

'I understand, Hermione. I wish it too, you know.'

'You do?' she asked with an incredulous look.

'Yeah. I do. Especially now that I've met Harry. It's weird… I've been away from him for a couple of minutes and I already miss him.'

Hermione squeezed his hand.

'Does… Does Ron want it?' she asked, quite nervously. 'A family, I mean.' She looked at him, her teary eyes filled with hope. What could he say? Should he lie? Ron did not want kids. Ron wanted her to himself. Ron wanted what they had. Ron wanted… Wanted _them_ to be kids again. For things to be as they were when they all were young. It finally made sense to Harry. Ron, his best friend, had not yet grown up. A process he wasn't sure he himself had gone through with either, but was sure he was undergoing it at this very moment. Would he betray this to Ron's wife? His best friend? Whose loyalty should he honor? 'Harry?'

'Er - Ron wants… Ron wants _you_ , Hermione. I'm not sure if he wants what Ginny has yet. But it will come. I'm sure.'

Hermione's hand slipped from his, leaving him with a cold and empty sensation where their skin had touched. She sighed, burying her face in her hands.

'Ron wants things to stay the same. That's what you're telling me. They've been the same for seven years, Harry. Seven years. I'm not… How long? How long do I have to wait?'

'I don't know... But you will, won't you?'

She did not respond. Instead, they sat there, on his bed, saying nothing. Complete silence covered them like a blanket, haunting the room as much as his absence was. It wasn't until Mrs. Weasley called for dinner that they woke up from their silent trance, a long while later.

* * *

Traveling to Hogwarts was different as a teacher, but to Harry, not much had changed. Where ever he walked along platform 9&3/4 stares followed him, just as they did when he journeyed there all those years ago.

Ron had come with them to the station, acting a bit cold and unloving to his wife but friendly enough to his best friend. Finally, when Hermione and Harry were just about to board the train, the married couple shared a long awaited kiss, though it did not give way to a long awaited smile on Hermione; instead she tried to force a happy grimace to her husband, who seemed to take it at face value. He shook hands with his best friend and told him to keep an eye on his wife for him, and went on his way before the train left.

It was a bittersweet goodbye. Hermione seemed both happy and sad while they walked the length of the scarlet Hogwarts Express, greeting students and teachers alike. They didn't really have time to talk about it, though. In fact, they hadn't really talked properly since that dinner at the Weasley's, not counting pleasantries and greetings. Wanting to change this, but not finding time to, Harry instead forced the issue by getting into an empty compartment and dragging his friend with him.

'What's the matter, Harry?' she asked, quite flustered from the sudden movement.

'Mind telling me what's going on?' he said.

'Nothing!'

'Nothing? Ron's kissing you and you just… Nothing?' She looked around the empty compartment. 'Hermione, talk to me.'

'Like you talked to me, Harry?!' she snapped. 'In case you've forgotten, I was your friend, too. You left me as much as much as that boy did. I needed you.'

'That's not fair, Hermione -'

'No! Don't you stand up for him. Or yourself. As far as I'm concerned, you two were best friends and I was an outsider. At least I have little Hermione and Ginny now. Who do you have, Harry? Decima? Run off to her, then. Go on! Ginny and little Harry don't need you and they never have!'

She had gone too far. He was beyond angry. Fair enough, Harry _had_ let her down. All of them, in fact, including little Harry, Ginny and Ron. But this? This was way off what she was allowed to say. The hair on his neck was standing straight up, and he physically felt himself swell as if he was about to jump on top of her. Before he could do or say anything, she turned around and left. He was all alone now, truly.

What a fantastic start to his new beginning.


	3. Chapter 3, A short escape

The Sorting Ceremony, the welcoming feast, the Headmistress' speech… Even the first classes he taught had been overshadowed by Harry and Hermione's row. Harry's initial week as a teacher had passed without a single word between them, not so much as a glance. Miserable, lonely, and angry. At least he had the company of his old invisibility cloak, and the Marauder's Map with him. He did, though he would never admit it, sometimes stare at Hermione's dot on the map as it traversed through the castle. Most of the time, she was still in her office, probably grading the hundreds of papers she already had assigned her poor students.

Even catching up with Hagrid, who had gathered that he and Hermione weren't on speaking terms, was an unpleasant chore consisting of getting scolded for " _acting like a wee child_ _"_ and " _forgetting who your friends are_ ". He had of course not been interested in hearing Harry's side of the story - unlike Neville, who seemingly hadn't heard _Hermione_ _'s_ side of anything. The new Professor of Herbology was happy to have his old classmate at Hogwarts, especially as Harry's celebrity rubbed off on him in the eyes of the castle's young occupants. Not many of Neville's lessons passed where his students didn't interrogate him about their adventures as youths, Dumbledore's Army, or the Battle of Hogwarts.

Ron had responded to Harry's first owl, asking how Hermione was doing, revealing that they still had not spoken either. But Harry, not wanting to reveal anything himself, pretended to forget that particular line of inquiry and instead asked about the ministry, the Aurors, and Decima. When he wrote to Ginny and her family, he included drawings he had absentmindedly doodled while thinking of them, such as a sloppily penciled Hungarian Horntail that roared soundlessly as it magically chased a stick-figure Harry flying around on a broom. He wasn't keen on drawing himself, but he wanted little Harry to learn something about his namesake in a fun and personal way.

Writing to Decima was harder. They weren't really close, but he figured he should write something. So he asked her how she was doing, said he missed her, wanted to meet her (careful not to make it sound romantic), and told her to keep Ron in check while he was away. Not really expecting an answer, but it felt good to do his part, at least.

He left the chilly September morning of the Owlery to make his way to his rather comfortable classroom, for the first time to teach the seventh-graders. He had decorated his classroom after drawing inspiration from his old professor Remus Lupin, who used to leave mysterious and sometimes spooky objects out and about. Hanging from the ceiling were several cages filled with exotic and dark magical objects, while a large blackboard was being drawn on by enchanted chalks, leaving white traces that formed magical creatures.

The students had been given cozy chairs and bigger desks than most other classrooms, made possible by Harry's spell to make the room slightly larger, something he was quite proud of. Even Hermione would be proud of him for that, he thought, before reminding himself he was still angry at her.

'Good morning, Professor!' a young brunette Hufflepuff had walked in, almost half an hour early for the class. Harry wasn't surprised, though. It was a common occurrence here for him; students came early and left late from his classes. McGonagall had already complained about it more than once, and Harry was sure the oddity had nothing to do with the quality of his lectures.

'Morning, Miss..?'

'Clarell, sir. Myrna Clarell. Do you mind if I come a bit early? She smiled while holding her books tight to her chest, before her cheeks reddened when she realized what she said. Harry laughed it off, to her apparent further embarrassment.

'Not at all, Miss Clarell. Sit where ever you'd like.'

Save for the intermittent rattling of the cages above them and the occasional timid entrance of a few more students, they sat in silence. Harry, reading through the third grader's essays on Boggarts while doing his best to ignore the stares of Miss Clarell, couldn't help but noticing that it, all of a sudden, was in fact _too_ quiet. And what happened to the bright morning sunlight? A swift wave of his wand lit the candles around the classroom, providing some ambient light and dancing shadows. Expecting equally confused looks from his students, he found… nothing? Empty seats, no sign of a single student having walked in at all. Where Miss Clarell had just sat, staring at him longingly, was an untouched chair and desk. Harry managed to utter a soft " _Miss Clarell?_ " as a cold shudder traveled the length of his spine. He was sure more Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors had taken a couple of seats as well; had the all just went up and left? Surely, he would have heard that.

'Professor? Is everything all right?'

Harry was snapped back to a filled classroom bathed by the autumn sun. Students, including the just missing Myrna Clarell, sat staring oddly at him as if he had just appeared out of thin air. Which he might have done, for all he knew. Suppressing the urge to ask his students if they had seen anything… out of place, he instead decided the matter would have to wait. But who could he ask? Hermione was out of the question. McGonagall? It didn't feel right to lay personal concerns on the already too busy Headmistress. His old friend Neville would listen, though what insight could he give that Harry didn't already know? The answer was already clear to him. How would his red-headed friend react when Harry visited out of the blue?

'Yes, thank you, Miss Clarell. Shall we begin, then?'

* * *

'That will be all for today, I'm afraid. Remember, next time I expect all of you to be able to differentiate between general Anti-Jinxes, and specific ones. You will prove this with a two page essay, and showing me, one at a time, that you master the Standard Anti-Jinxes non-verbally. Dismissed!'

A sad sigh spread across the class, though Harry did not know whether it was for the homework or the fact that their time was up for now. It brought a smile to his face. Several girls were giggling in the back of the classroom, while a Mr. Edmonde Elmbrigg approached him, the proud lion of Gryffindor adorning his robes.

'Sorry, Professor. I was just wondering if you could excuse me from the two page essay this week. See, I have Quidditch tryouts to hold soon and I just don't have time for another two-pager so early in on the season -'

It was a bold move, he had to admit. This blond-curled little devil was trying to appeal to Harry's known love of Quidditch, and famous disregard for schoolwork.

'Let me stop you right there, Mr. Elmbrigg. You're a chaser, correct?'

'Yes, sir, Professor.' He answered dutifully.

'And have you scored on Slytherin, yet?'

'Many times, sir!' he glowed with pride.

'And have you won the Quidditch Cup?'

'Two times running, Professor!'

'Then of course, my boy!' he said, doing his best imitation of a certain Professor Slughorn.

'Really?! I mean - I don't have to do it?' he grinned, seemingly not believing what he was hearing.

'No Star-Chaser Quidditch-Captain Gryffindor-Hero has to do a two-pager so early in on the season, what was I thinking?!' Harry rhetorically asked, laying an arm around the boy who now held his chin so high he practically embodied the lion sewn onto his chest.

'Thanks, Professor. I knew you'd understand!'

'Think nothing of it, dear boy. You'll do a four-pager! Shouldn't be a problem, should it?' he said, a sly smirk covering his face end-to-end.

Edmonde laughed, until he realized what his professor had said. The rest of the classroom burst into laughter as Harry's words sunk in, while the Quidditch Captain stood there, frozen in silence at the consequences of his failed attempt.

'And don't you ever try to weasel out of homework again, young man. Ten points from Gryffindor!'

'Professor! I'm sorry, I didnt -'

'Alright, Mr. Elmbrigg. Five points to Gryffindor, for the sheer audacity of your effort. I can respect that, at least. Now go, all of you. I'm sure you lot have things to do and places to be at. Shoo, shoo!' he rushed them out.

A single piece of paper floated through the air as the Hufflepuffs and the Gryffindors scooted out of his classrom, falling slowly towards the stone floor. His old Quidditch reflexes did not let him down as he quickly snatched it out of the air, reading it with some curiosity.

" _He_ _'s quite handsome, I agree_." It read. " _I wouldn_ _'t mind_ _not_ _defending his dark arts, IYKWIM_." Harry had no idea what that acronym meant, but knew it probably wasn't good. Nor was it meant for him to read. He pocketed it up while shaking his head. _Girls_. Would he ever be rid of them?

* * *

As if the gods were mocking him, his girl troubles would only worsen the moment he stepped out of his classroom. Someone crashed into him, causing his glasses to fly far away and them both to fall hard to the ground.

'Watch it, would you?! _Accio glasses_!' they shot back into his hands and he put them on his nose. The face of Hermione formed as his blurry vision became clearer.

'You watch it, mister.' She responded accusingly.

'Oh, it's you. Not here to apologize, I expect?'

'Me?!' she heaved herself up from the floor, collecting all the papers and books by hand. Harry gentlemanly tried to help her, but she smacked away his hand. 'Why on Merlin's beard would _I_ apologize? What's that then?' she said, picking up the note Harry had just read. ' _Handsome? Dark arts, if you know what I mean?_ '

'I was going to throw that away, Hermione. Why do you know those letters, anyway?' he grabbed it out of her hands and cast _Incendio_ on it non-verbally.

'I don't care. I know the girls fancy you already, that's all they talk about after your classes. And before.' She blushed as Harry looked at her. 'Some of them were and still are friends with your girlfriend Decima, you know. She graduated just last year, I believe.'

Harry could not believe _this_ was what they were talking about, all this time later, having not spoken in such a long time. It didn't matter too much though, he had missed her voice, and her presence. He felt his anger at her waver as he wanted to correct her.

'She's not my girlfriend, Hermione. She's my friend. And I don't care if the girls fancy me or not, I'm their Professor, and they are far too young. Oh don't give me that look!' he added as he knew Hermione what Hermione was going to say. 'Decima had graduated and she's an adult!'

'Well you still slept with her, and you were her boss!'

'That's none of your business, especially not now!'

'And what's that supposed to mean?' she folded her arms. Several students had gathered at the ends of the corridor, afraid to come any nearer. Hermione's books floated in the air above her head.

'You made yourself quite clear, Hermione. You don't want me around you, and you don't want to be my friend. So don't be.' He looked back and forth between the groups of students at either ends. 'Go on, then. You'll all have classes I assume. We're done here.' He stormed off, leaving Hermione and her irrational opinions to herself.

The castle was full of vibrant energy. Students screamed, laughed, kissed, and studied all over the place. Nearly Headless Nick and the other House ghosts greeted Harry as he walked the halls, keeping an eye out for any trouble, but really just enjoying being back where he belonged. Once or twice, a brave student tried chatting him up or asking him if it was true that he had tricked "that cocky Quidditch Captain", yet Harry mostly ignored them and let the students live their lives separate from him, while out an about. His old friend Neville taught in the greenhouses, and Hagrid was busy scaring a bunch of firsties with far too big monsters for their age. McGonagall worked in her office, while Hermione… Hermione grew angrier, and angrier. Harry heard more than once that she was taking out some of her frustrations on students that "lacked discipline" with their schoolwork. Had they still been friendly, Harry might've told her off. But he did not want to do so.

Then it hit him. _Ron_. He rushed to his office on the second floor, past hollering students and confused paintings.

* * *

'Harry? What are you doing here, mate?!' Ron embraced him as Harry stepped into his old office. Nothing much had changed, except one or two new faces. Harry gave a quick thought to his odd behavior earlier in the day, but decided against bringing it up. After all, nothing strange had happened since, and perhaps it had just been a result of stress and bad sleep.

'I wanted to see you, you ol' grump. Haven't seen you in ages, have I? Alright, Jack?' he asked as his old employee walked past them, responding with an incoherent grumble.

'It's only been a week, mate. I just wrote to you, too. Funny timing, innit? How's everything at Hogwarts? Hermione and you behaving?' he looked more curious than he probably wanted to portray, but Harry didn't mind.

'Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.' Ron eyed him suspiciously. 'We haven't really spoken since the train. Well, except another row just the other day…'

'What?!' Ron yelled out. The rest of the Auror's heads popped out of their cubicles. 'I mean - what? Why? What happened?'

'She's still angry - pissed rather, that I kind of, you know, disappeared for a while. And she said some stuff she shouldn't have said.'

'Like what?' Ron looked completely dumbfounded by this news.

'Well, stuff like that I'm alone, that little Harry and Ginny don't want me in their lives, and neither does she.'

'She did _not_! No, not Hermione. _My_ Hermione said those things?' Ron said, almost discussing the matter loudly with himself. Harry wasn't sure she in fact was _his_ Hermione any longer, but led that slide for now. 'I'll write to her. I'll make her see sense, don't worry Harry.'

'No need, no need. I just wanted to see you, Ron. I - uh, I missed you. Hogwarts is pretty much the same though.'

'I missed you too, mate. Blimey, and you're allowed to visit here? Don't you have classes?'

'Allowed? Merlin's beard no, I still have the map and the cloak. I'll be back before anyone realizes. Lunch, for old times' sake?'

Of course, Harry wasn't back before anyone realized. The lunch led to a couple of butterbeers, and soon enough half the Auror office was in on a lovely catch-up, with Harry learning all about the latest goings-ons at the ministry. Apparently, a small group of ex-Death Eaters had accidentally revealed themselves in Dublin, causing a minor scandal and some injuries before the Aurors got there. Decima acquitted herself well, as did Ron. Averbo got injured and had spent the whole week at St Mungo's, though it wasn't life threatening. John and Sophia had started dating, while Linus had tendered his resignation. Quite a busy week, by all accounts. Busier than it ever seemed when Harry worked there, for sure. It wasn't until many hours later when Decima reminded Harry that Hogwarts was a place that existed that Harry thought of his duties at the school. Decima gave him a little kiss on the cheek before he left, already finding himself missing his old colleagues more than he thought he ever would. At least he wasn't missing his old workplace, he thought.

As soon as he came back through the secret entrance, _Hermione_. Arms crossed, glowering at him, with Professor McGonagall standing next to her.

'Potter. I never imagined I would ever, _ever_ , scold you again for wandering about the secret entrances as if you were a child. You are a _Professor_ now, Potter. Act accordingly, or I will put an end to that.'

Harry nodded to his Headmistress, who turned to walk away as Hermione blushed slightly when her and Harry's eyes met.

'I didn't tell, if that's what your wondering.'

'Yeah? Why should I believe you?'

'Because, I don't care if you leave.'

'So what're you doing here?'

'I… I was worried, if you must know.'

'Don't be.'

'Where were you?'

'I met Ron. And Decima.'

That shut her up quickly. The stubborn Transfiguration's Professor turned from him and stormed off. He couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of guilt. Damn his conscience, he thought. Hermione deserved that.


	4. Chapter 4, No longer worried

By what right had Hermione been worried? And for what reason? He could take care of himself. He had been _Head Auror_ , after all. And it was hardly possible that anything out there posed a bigger threat than Voldemort ever did. Even less likely that someone (or something) was out for Harry specifically, unlike his old mortal enemy had been.

He was lying in his office bed only a few hours after returning from his brief reunion, pondering Hermione's strange behavior. Something was off, _but what?_ A quick look at his map told him that his former best friend was wandering the halls this night. In fact, so were McGonagall, Neville, and several other professors. What had he missed? Had something happened? He shot up from his bed, dressing sloppily before abandoning his office to confront the first teacher he could find.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as his wand lit up the corridors he strolled through. Voices could be heard here and there, but they most likely belonged to the Hogwarts ghosts. The Marauder's Map told that Neville was close by, seemingly monitoring the hallway right outside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

'Neville!' he whispered hoarsely. 'You here?'

'Harry? Harry, what are you doing up?' Harry's wandlight reached his old friends face, lighting up the now slightly stubbled, but still quite chubby, face. Neville Longbottom, now a professor, was standing alone, outside of the girl's bathroom, disheveled robes and out of breath voice. And he was asking _Harry_ what _he_ was up to.

'I could ask you the same, Neville. Why are all the professors roaming the halls? Is something happening?' he asked. Neville glanced around them nervously. Sweat dripped from his forehead, shining brightly in the light emanating from Harry's wand.

'I'm - I'm not supposed to tell you, Harry. I think -'

'Not _supposed_ to? What does that mean? On whose authority?' he demanded.

'S-Sorry, Harry, you'll have to ask the Headmistress -'

'I'm asking _you_ Neville because _you_ are my friend.'

Neville stood frozen, thinking, before turning to face his old friend.

'Harry,' he began calmly. 'We are colleagues now. If our Headmistress tells us to do something, we do it. I won't disobey her orders because we are friends. First and foremost, I am a professor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.' He let out a long sigh as he finished his speech, looking quite amazed at himself for managing through all those words at Harry without faltering. Harry was amazed as well, proud even. His old friend… _no_ , Professor Longbottom, had come a long way indeed.

'Then I'll ask her. Thanks, Neville.'

The map revealed McGonagall to be in the Great Hall, surrounded by three dots carrying names Harry didn't recognize: Wolstan Crane, Daniel Gomersall, and a Ragnvaldr Visla. Who were these people? Why the secrets? Was this what his Aurors had found on that anniversary, all those weeks ago? Questions formed faster than his mind could process them, faster than his now throbbing headache could handle. Hermione would have an idea, he knew. Hermione could help him.

Paintings on the walls shouted after him to mind his wand as he rid the halls of their blackness with it, waking up both the people within and the suits of armor he passed. Another quick look at his father's map showed that the person named Visla was now missing, nowhere to be found, replaced by… _Decima Cely_? _What on earth was going on_? When he finally found himself standing outside the Great Hall gates, hesitation gripped him, hindering him like an invisible barrier. He wanted to enter, to confront the lot of them. But, without being able to explain why, he also wanted to go back, to turn around and go to sleep. _You_ _'re under a spell_ , a voice inside his head told him. It was ludicrous. No one had approached him, no name was close to him on the map. _The spell is on the door, idiot_.

' _Finite Incantatem_!' he pointed at the gates of the Great Hall, and all doubts melted away, as if they had never been there at all. Pushing open the heavy doors, the four people inside now stared at him, incredulously. 'Can someone tell me what the bloody hell is going on here?'

* * *

The four occupants of the Great Hall accompanied Harry to the Headmistress' office, where the Gargoyle leapt out of the way for the staircase to reveal itself as McGonagall uttered the words "White Vitae". The office had been redecorated since Harry's last visit. Gone were the enigmatic trinkets and strange tools of Albus Dumbledore. They were replaced by heaps of books, papers, and parchments that were being written on by enchanted quills. Adorning the walls were the familiar faces of the previous Headmasters and Headmistresses, including Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape. Some were snoring loudly, such as the aforementioned Albus, while others slumbered in peace.  
In Fawkes place was a perfectly white cat, sitting up straight as the five of them entered, unblinkingly following them with her red eyes. The Headmistress waved her wand to produce two simple wooden chairs, apparently not bothering with either comfort nor hospitality, as there were now only three chairs, and five people. McGonagall motioned for Decima and Harry to take the seats in front of her.

'Potter. You - I owe you an apology.'

'Minerva. I don't accept it. Explain to me what is going on, and I'll consider it. And Decima, what are you doing here? And who are these two people? And where is that Visla-person?' So many questions, so little time… Not wanting to burst out more and seem _too_ desperate, he eventually settled his inquisitorial tongue, convincing himself he would receive an explanation any second now, and that everything would become clear and obvious.

'How do you know Valdr Visla?' asked Decima. McGonagall raised an eyebrow at Harry, before her eyes found the map he was holding.

'I think we have given Professor Potter far too little credit, Decima. He isn't as dumb as he can sometimes appear.' Harry wasn't sure whether to take is as a compliment or insult, and landed somewhere in between. 'I do believe he deserves an explanation. Wolstan, Daniel, you can leave. If Valdr is still here… Well, you know what to do.'

Harry was lost. Completely lost. Was he dreaming? Had he fallen asleep, sometime many years ago? Had he in fact never returned from dying at King's Cross? The idea wasn't as bizarre as the actual events that unfolded in front of him, though when Decima sneaked a kiss on his cheek… It felt real.

'Sorry, Boss. I wanted to tell you, but…'

'But, Harry,' McGonagall continued. It was one of the few times she called him by his first name. 'Someone is after you. Someone close, someone with access to a… a broken technology, a technology we thought we were well rid off.'

'What?'

'A Time-Turner, Harry.' Decima finished.

Time-Turners? Harry's face screwed up in confusion. They were all destroyed, back when… When Sirius died. At the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. It didn't make any sense, and his Headmistress' explanation only caused more questions than answers.

'Not a true Time-Turner, Potter. It seems to be someone or _someones_ with a heavily damaged, or modified, device. Perhaps both. We can only catch glimpses of changes appearing in our presence; whispers, phantom footsteps… Well, you can understand the difficulty in chasing such a person in such a place as this.'

'Chasing? So how do you know their after _me_?'

'The voices we've heard have revealed _some_ information, but… Not long ago, we were visited by a man calling himself Valdr Visla. He claimed to know a great deal about what was going to happen, which we of course did not believe… But then, things… Fell into place, just as he had described. We could not find him again, though. He disappears and appears at random, even within these walls, even with all our enchantments and protections… Sometimes he appears as an old man, other times as a young, cloaked figure, horrific scars on his face and scalp… We can't stop him. And we don't know _who_ he really is. All we know is that someone is after you, and Visla, or one of the Vislas, is in on it.'

This was it. Of course it was. Hermione knew it. Did Ron? Would his best friend have kept this from him? Decima did, after all, and so did his former best friend. But surely, not Ron. This was what worried Hermione. What caused her strange behavior towards him.

'And why did you not tell me about this, Prof - Minerva? Why keep it a secret? Let me come here, and endanger you all?' The two women shared looks, seemingly trying to decide wordlessly on what to tell him.

'Harry, I know you'd want to solve this on your own. To end this. But Visla has shown us no reason to doubt his… prophetic words so far. He told us… He told us you would die. We did not want to burden you with that knowledge. And the less you knew, the less danger you would expose yourself to. Professor Granger knows as well as I that you cannot stay away from imminent danger if you have any hope of helping someone, even if that someone is yourself. Paradoxically, you are your own worst enemy in this regard, Harry. You put yourself in danger.'

'I don't care what Professor Granger -'

' _I_ care, Potter. And she cares about you. You'd do well to remember that. I suggest the two of you solve your little dispute, and quick. Whatever ill-blood exists between you two is, as of now, irrelevant. Bury the hatchet, that is an order, Professor.'

" _Bury the hatchet_." Would that it were so simple. McGonagall did not know what had transpired on the Hogwarts Express. She did not know of Hermione's words and anger, nor of Harry's disappearance and betrayal of their friendship. He sighed… Of course, she was still right. Of the two of them, Harry had committed the far worse crime to their friendship, and it was up to him to try to mend it. _Reparo_ would not do, maybe nothing would. But this was not an order he would ignore. For once.

Decima stood, excused herself, and left after giving her old boss a quick hug. Harry lingered a bit, wandering past the different paintings hanging from his old professors walls, hoping someone would suddenly wake up and bestow some ancient wisdom unto him. He stopped in front of Albus Dumbledore, his silver beard cut in half by the frame which contained Harry's old friend and mentor. His snores were convincing enough, but behind the half-moon spectacles, a single eye opened, winking at him, and then returning to such an authentic-looking sleep that Harry wasn't sure if what he'd seen was a figment of his imagination or not.

* * *

Hermione's dot on the map was still not in her chambers when Harry exited McGonagall's at far past three o'clock. She wandered around on the second floor, pacing silently as Harry approached. When he caught up with her, she stood outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, Harry's office. Startled by Harry's less quiet footsteps, she turned around, shining her wandlight directly into Harry's eyes, blinding him temporarily as he flustered to regain his sense of balance.

'Thanks, Hermione.' He blurted out as his vision grew darker and less painful.

'Sorr - well, you shouldn't have sneaked up on me!'

'Never one to admit wrongdoing, are you?' to her apparent annoyance, Harry laughed. 'Listen, Hermione. I should apologize. For what I said, for my disappearance, for my failures as a friend and as a person. Not only these past weeks, but… These past years. It's hard to admit to myself, but I _have_ been awful. I saw this - this Hogwarts return, as a chance to restart, to rekindle my love for life and for magic. And maybe myself. I let you down, Hermione, and I'll never do that again. Ever. If you give me a chance, that is.' Hermione flew into his arms, accidentally stabbing him between the ribs with her want. He groaned in pain as she apologetically backed off and pocketed her wand, then awkwardly returned to the hug. 'Suppose that's my fault as well, seeing as I made you hug me?' they shared a laugh, as Hermione shed a tear or two on her best friends shoulders.

'Oh, Harry… And I came here to apologize to you. I… What I said was awful, way out of line, and untrue. Little Harry would be lucky to have you. Anyone would. I am.' Even in the darkness of the hallway, Hermione's now red cheeks were visible. She stared at the floor as Harry swept her into another hug.

'Friends?' he asked.

'Always.' She answered.

They stood there, holding onto each other for what must have been a long time since birds could be heard chirping when they finally let go of one another. Harry wanted to ask her into his office for quick tea as they both would have no time to sleep before their morning classes, but Hermione was already a step ahead of him when she opened the door leading to his office without saying a word. Not wanting to stop her, he followed closely behind, rubbing his tired and surely bloodshot eyes in the process. All the night's events and information he had been bombarded with was flying around in his sleep-deprived mind - clashing with the now blurred thoughts of his first friendly encounter with his best friend in a too long while. Her brown curls bounced lightly behind her pale skin, covering the top of her white shirt. The lack of a large, covering black Hogwarts robe exposed her quite pretty contours in his dimly lit office. She was… Attractive. And something told him it wasn't just his fatigued and overworked brain who was thinking along those lines. She had always been beautiful to him; though, perhaps this was the first time he saw her in a less than sisterly way. She _was_ a woman.

As they sat down in his rather cramped and messy office, located behind the door in the front of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, Hermione whipped out two cups of steaming tea, a couple of sugar cubes, and a small carafe of cold milk. He always had admired her elegant way with magic; she made everything seem so effortless, so easy. That was of course a lie, he knew. Hermione worked hard for her skills. She always worked hard and diligently. Another trait of hers he cherished.

'I've been meaning to ask,' Harry began. Hermione's face shot up from her tea to meet his gaze. 'Why'd they name the twins Harry and Hermione?' I would have thought Ron - or Albus, even. Why our names?'

Hermione shifted in her seat, looking a bit uncomfortable at the question and taking a small sip before answering.

'Well, they thought they were two boys when they first found out that Ginny was carrying twins. When the first boy was born, they named him Harry, naturally.'

'How is that " _naturally_ "? Why me?'

'Oh, come on, Harry. Yes, Ginny and you didn't work out in the end, but she still loved you. The whole Weasley family does! And… Harry's a pretty name, don't you think? In fact, I read that there are loads of young Harry's nowadays, ever since you defeated Voldemort. Wood didn't mind, of course. I don't even think he knew about you two until recently.'

'Oh… And then the other twin was a girl, and they named her Hermione. That makes sense, I suppose. Yeah.'

'They were of course planning on a Harry and a Ron, running around inseparably just as the two of you when you were kids. I don't think they expected a pair of Harry and Hermione, but… I don't think they mind, either.' She quickly averted meeting Harry's eyes by staring into her cup, taking another sip of her hot tea. Harry could see how proud Hermione was that there was a child named after her, but to see her blush, to see her so happy by that… It brought a smile to his face as well.

'I'm just glad they named the elder one Harry, otherwise there'd be no little Harry now! If they'd started with naming the first one Ron…'

'Then there'd be at least one _"Ron & Hermione" _at the moment.' She said, with a solemn voice.

He wanted to cheer her up… Not knowing how though, he said nothing. Just looking at her, being with her, would have to do. At least for now. They shared a yawn, finishing their tea in silence, before Hermione " _scourgified_ _"_ her cup.

'Harry,' she started.

'Yeah?'

'Is it okay if I stay here with you?' he was quite taken aback by that. _Stay here? Stay the night?_ Of course, the night had already passed. Only a few short hours remained until the students would storm the Great Hall for breakfast. 'Until morning, I mean. I don't want to leave…'

'Er - of course, Hermione. I only have the one bed, though. I'll - I'll just stay here by the desk then, okay?'

'Thanks, Harry. I only need a nap. I owe you one.'

'Don't mention it,' replied Harry. Hermione rose and turned to Harry's bed before glancing back at her friend. 'Oh, sorry.' He exited the room, realizing she needed to undress. 'Goodnight, Hermione.'

Trying to suppress the thoughts of his best friend undressing, he wandered around the classroom. Images of a young Harry and Hermione, sitting next to each other in this very classroom, haunted his exhausted mind. Of course, Ron was there, unlike he was now. Ron was always there. But not now. Now, there was only the two of them. And she was in his bed. Undressed, and, most likely at the very least, uncertain of her future with Ron. A part of Harry screamed for him to enter his office, to join her on the bed. But… that voice was back, the same voice who convinced him not to turn back from the Great Hall earlier. _Don_ _'t do it_ , it told him. _You_ _'ll regret it. Think about Ron. This is wrong_. But why? Why was this wrong? Ron and Hermione were over. Done. Why would his best friend stand in the way of a new love blossoming? That would be.. selfish. Had Harry not acted _unselfish_ all those years ago with regards to Ron's sister, this situation might never have happened!

Yet, he did not enter. The voice won. And Harry found himself a short hour and a half later startling awake on one of the comfortable student chairs of his office.


	5. Chapter 5, Assault of mind

_Dear Favorite Ex-Boyfriend,_

 _(My) Harry loved your drawing! So much so that he cried for hours after I took the letter down from his nightstand while cleaning. He doesn_ _'t want to be separated from it, much less from you! You'll have to visit soon again. My oaf-of-a-brother Ron told me you've already made a short escape from the school to meet up with him, so why not use your old map to come here for dinner or lunch sometime? Fred is very eager to hear the Triwizard story from you, he just won't shut up about it ever since I tried explaining your drawing. Thanks for that! I think little Hermione was a bit intimidated by your scar; she often cries when she sees Bill's too, but she loves him probably more than she loves anyone else. I believe she doesn't like the idea that you've both been hurt!_

 _I was glad you decided to write, and hope this isn_ _'t a one time thing, because we've all really missed you. I wish we could have more chances to talk and spend time together. With both you and Hermione gone now, Ron always busy at the Ministry, and my dear husband flying on a broomstick around the world, it can get a bit lonely, despite the three little devils in the house._

 _Oliver and I were happy you approved of our choice of name for our youngest boy. You should know that Charlie is his godfather, and Hermione is the godmother of little Hermione. Don_ _'t think it to be an indictment of your character, we just weren't sure of how involved you would be in his upbringing and future. As you now have met him (and from what I saw it was love at first sight!), I hope you want to be his uncle and godfather as much as I wanted you to be._

 _Love,_

 _Ginny_

He read through the letter twice more until his stupid grin made even a small hint of fainting. Little Harry, and even Fred, had loved his drawing! And little Hermione didn't hate him, just like the older Hermione no longer did. It had been three weeks since their night in his office. Three busy and… happy weeks. His students still enjoyed his classes, much to the annoyance of Hermione, who constantly complained that Harry hardly had to make an effort for his class to pay attention. _"It's not fair"_ , she would argue. Apparently, the sixth graders of Gryffindor and Slytherin had such issues with Hermione's never ending assembly of homework that they set aside their rivalry to stage a joint protest of her classes until she agreed to slow down with the essays.

McGonagall and the Aurors had not reported any more signs of the phantom man, nor had anyone been injured, gone missing, or worse. Perhaps, it had only been a prankster spirit, or a harmless and bored ghost. Either way, the three weeks passed without external interruptions or threat of lives. The only real distraction had been when Ron visited last week, hoping to begin repairing his relationship with Hermione. Harry had of course not spoken of their night together, no matter how innocent it had been - he knew Ron wouldn't approve anyhow. To Harry's relief, Ron had left almost immediately after arriving, as a few shameful and worried glances at the Marauder's Map had revealed.

Indeed, the last days of September blended magically into the second and third week of October, guiding the castles inhabitants closer to the start of the Quidditch season, and closer still to the Halloween feast on the evening of October 31st. The two events were all the talk in the school corridors as Gryffindor Captain Edmonde Elmbrigg had built a team many reckoned to smash Ravenclaw in the opening fixture, before gliding to their third Cup in a row. Not even Harry Potter had managed three wins in a row, they whispered. Harry himself thought it was quite amusing, though reminded himself silently that he only had six years in the school, and only one year as a Captain. Furthermore, he had missed most of the matches due to detentions, dementors, or other distractions. Not that a petty rivalry with Mr. Elmbrigg mattered, though. In fact, as Hermione had been keen to remind him, Harry was still the youngest Seeker in centuries. _And,_ she would add, Elmbrigg apparently had posters of Harry on his walls. According to rumors, that was.

A timid knock told Harry he had a visitor, and when seventh grader (and Slytherin Head Girl) Silvia Selwyn entered, a slow and tired sigh left him. It wasn't the first girl to innocently wander into his classroom, supposedly only to " _check up on homework_ _"_ or some such. Though he had to admit that Miss Selwyn was a surprise addition to this ever enlarging club of female students. She had reminded him to some extent of a young Hermione, rather than a more forward and romantically inclined young Ginny. Maybe this _was_ only a strictly academical visit. The Head Girl entered his office, clutching books to her chest and obviously wearing more make-up than she would usually do during their classes. Her brown hair had a fancy high knot, her lips bore a scarlet shade, and her lashes must've been magically extended. She was quite good looking, he reckoned. Though he had only eyes for one woman, despite his best efforts to ignore his romantic urges for his best friend's wife. Of course, he would never be interested in a student. Yet he could admire their efforts at times, however inappropriate and futile they were.

'Sorry to interrupt your work, Professor. I was just wondering if I could have some words regarding… _er_ \- your grading of my last paper.' She claimed, rather hastily adding the question of grades. Harry surveyed her with suspicious eyes, scanning her true intentions.

'Miss Selwyn, my grades are final, as you well know. And I do believe your last paper on the unforgivable curses received top marks, did it not? I was particularly impressed with your knowledge and explanation of the Imperius curse.'

'Oh, well yes - I mean… I wanted to thank you for that grade, of course. Nothing else.'

Yet there she stood, unwavering, by his door. Harry's attention returned back down to the large stack of essays on his desk before he realized the girl still hadn't left.

'Yes, Miss Selwyn? Was there anything else?' he impatiently added. 'I do have work to do, you know.'

'There was one more thing,'

'Yes?' he asked. She closed the door behind her, dropped her books, and rushed towards him, knocking the unsuspecting professor off his chair with a swift assault on his lips. Harry pushed her back violently and wiped away any trace of her taste from his lips. 'Merlin's beard, woman! What on earth -' she was back on him again, and again he pushed her away. 'MISS SELWYN, STOP THIS!' it didn't help. For the third time, her arms stretched towards him, forcing Harry to the only option he had left. ' _Petrificus Totatus!_ _'_ her body stiffened, collapsing towards the ground when Harry quickly uttered _"Levicorpus"_ to save her fall.

* * *

'Harry? What are - who are you carrying?!' Professor Flitwick called out after him with his squeaky voice, as Harry's feet sprinted towards the Hospital Wing. He responded by yelling for him to bring the Potions Professor as fast as he could. The doors to Madame Pomfrey's room flew open as Harry wordlessly waved his towards them, and the old Healer gasped when she saw the student in his arms.

'What happened? Potter? Why is she petrified?!'

'She…' he began, heaving her unto the nearest bed. 'There was no other choice, Poppy.' The experienced lady gave him an furious look as she ran around the room, fetching different ointments while at the same time casting mending-spells on the still frozen student.

'You better have a _VERY_ good reason for petrifying students, Potter! Minerva shall hear about this.'

'I don't intend to keep it a secret! Why would I otherwise bring her here?' he responded indignantly to the her accusatory tone. 'I told Filius to fetch Professor Slughorn - I'm sure the Headmistress will follow shortly.'

'I don't need Horace to heal her, silly boy! Have you forgotten your second year already?!'

'Slughorn isn't coming to un-petrify her, Poppy. I believe she's under the influence of a love potion.' Harry explained.

'And what makes you think that?' Hermione's voice came from behind him. Slughorn stood next to her, nodding to his old favorite student before rushing to see the petrified girl. Professor Flitwick came running with his stocky legs shortly after, huffing violently as he did so.

'Well,' Harry said, unsure of how truthful he would be with what had transpired in his office. Hermione's face went from a quizzical expression, to a blushing red one, before turning into an angry frown, as her gaze traveled from Harry's lips to the frozen girl's. He instinctively rubbed away the incriminating evidence, but the damage was done.

'And exactly _how_ did you notice she was under this influence, _Professor_?' she said, folding her arms.

'Don't you cross your arms at me, missus! She jumped me, unawares, in my office. I had no choice but to petrify her! Every time I shoved her away she kept coming back!'

Slughorn's ears prickled at this, as he turned around to his old students in the middle of their bickering.

'Hah!' he bounced as he laughed. 'That would do it!' Hermione and Harry faced the elderly man, who was now quite a bit more obese than he had been all those years ago, back when Harry impressed him using the _Half-Blood Prince_ _'s_ instructions. His mustache had turned a bright silver, and the hairs on his head were all gone except a thin, round line along the back of his skull. 'Pardon me, Poppy,' he excused himself to explain his sudden outburst to the confused professors next to him.

'Sir?' Harry asked.

'They were talking about this only last week, I believe. Yes… Yes, it was Miss Selwyn here, you see, and a few other seventh graders in my house. I overheard them making bets on who would get a certain first kiss from a _"handsome_ _fellow_ _"_ ,' he winked at Harry. 'My dear boy, I never imagined they were talking about our famous professor! And, I must admit, it seemed to all be in jest, not very serious, indeed. Had I known, I would have never invited Silvia to a little social gathering I'm hosting this coming week,' explained Slughorn. The Slug Club. _Oh, boy,_ Harry thought. Back in action. 'Now that I mention it, I would be honored if you chose to partake, Harry! The students would be positively thrilled to see their favorite teacher dressed smartly and act less _"teacherly_ " for an evening. I do suggest you bring a date though, if, for no other reason, to scare off any other potential plotters. Miss Granger, you'll come, won't you?' he finally acknowledged Hermione's presence with a quick look along with the mention of her name.

'Of course, Horace. Wouldn't miss it for the world. It's Mrs ' she corrected him, though Slughorn's attention was already back to Harry.

'See! I won't take no for an answer, old chap!'

'Horace!' yelled Madame Pomfrey from Miss Selwyn's bedside. 'Come here! NOW!'

'Coming, Ma'am!'

Harry and Hermione remained, bearing the same worried looks. It seemed that Hermione shared his doubts that it was in fact a friendly bet amongst students that prompted the girl to ingest love potion. She was a _Head Girl_ , after all. One is not awarded such responsibility by being careless or dismissive or rules. Then again, Ron _was_ made Prefect. Maybe it wasn't impossible that someone had poisoned her in an attempt to sabotage her chances with Harry… Nothing about it made any sense to him, though. Before he knew it, Hermione was dragging him out of the Hospital Wing, past the gathering of gossiping students, into an empty classroom nearby.

'Not that it is my business, but were you being _entirely_ truthful, Harry?' she asked, though received no answer but an annoyed look from her fellow professor. 'Alright, alright. I know you wouldn't really kiss students, Harry. It's just… I - it's seems rather unlikely -'

'I agree,' Harry nodded. 'What else could it be? I mean, she practically assaulted me! In my office!' he was getting worked up. Was it not enough that the female students acted strangely around him? Was he also going to have to literally ward off sexual advances by the wand? Hermione gave no answer, which was quite unusual for her. Harry couldn't help but noticing she was looking, _no,_ staring at his lips. 'What? Do I still have some on me?'

'Er - yes, as a matter of fact. Here, let me get it.' She produced a tissue with her wand and dabbed it gently on his lips. A tingling sensation trickled through his body, radiating from her touch and jump-starting his pulse. Harry mumbled a " _thanks_ _"_ while Hermione softly removed the last remains of Miss Selwyn's lipstick.

'Who are you going to pick?' she asked, pocketing the tissue simultaneously. She was still standing very close to him; close enough that Harry was wondering whether she could hear the heartbeat as it echoed throughout his body. Her perfume exuded a delightful scent of flowers mixed with… something magical. Something irresistible. Forcing himself to focus on something else proved difficult when her body stood so near, yet he somehow managed to find the discipline to reject his primitive urges.

'Pick?' his heart settled for a while, trying to decipher her meaning.

'To Horace's party, remember? I'm sure Decima wouldn't mind.' It was true, she probably wouldn't. And having an Auror as a date would not hurt his chances of coming through the night in one piece. On the other hand…

'Oh, er - I was thinking if _you_ -' the door behind them swung open, giving way for their dear but ever-so-annoyingly mistimed Headmistress. McGonagall's head shifted back and forth between the two of them as if she attended a tennis match, raising a brow of suspicion.

'Well, at least the two of you have settled your differences! Potter, a word. Hermione, you might want to face your.. husband.'

'My what?' It took a while for the truth to make itself reminded, despite McGonagall's frank words. 'Oh,'

'Shall I fetch him for you, or perhaps provide you with his photograph to jog your memory?' something about the speech gave Harry the familiar feeling of déjà vu as if he had heard it before, but he could not understand why.

'What do you mean?' asked Hermione, before Harry had a chance to do the same. 'He's here!?'

'Very much so, and I expect he wont depart until… well, quite a while. He wishes me to inform you that he refuses to leave unless you and he reconcile. You'll find him in my office. Now, if you'd please relieve me of my owling duties, I have pressing matters I wish to discuss with your friend here.' McGonagall's stern eyes faced Harry now, while Hermione scrambled out of their little hiding spot.

'Yes, Headmistress?' asked Harry innocently, trying hard to concentrate on anything other than the thoughts of Ron and Hermione reuniting.

'Harry,' she said, with a grave, almost solemn voice. 'The girls is awake and fine -'

'Great! Then we can ask her who gave her the love potion!' Harry exclaimed, interrupting his old Head of House in a fit of joy. This was good news, after all. Why did she deliver them with such misery?

'But,' the Headmistress continued, 'neither Horace nor Poppy have found any trace of love potion. And Miss Selwyn herself can not recollect either drinking it willingly, or being forced to do so. In fact, she remembers nothing of today's events and finds herself in quite a state of shock, if I may say so.' _No love potion?_ _Then_ …

'Is it possible… Could she be lying?'

'Why certainly, Professor. Though I highly doubt it. I have as of yet _not_ introduced acting classes at Hogwarts. She did mention a feeling of euphoria and hearing a whisper not long before her memory fails her, though odd whispers are not uncommon in this castle nowadays.'

'Then, what _are_ you suggesting, Minerva?'

'Nothing.' Her answer was blunt, as always. 'Yet I do advise caution, Potter. Even when around students or staff, strange incidents pertaining to our friend _Visla_ have occurred. I trust you to report anything and everything that could be relevant.'

" _Anything and everything_ _…_ " That did include Harry's bizarre experience before class all those weeks ago, which he still hadn't brought up with a single soul.

'There was something… Though I - I'm not sure it wasn't my imagination. There was this moment last month, like a brief flash, where everything… changed. The sun vanished, and the students as well. I stood there, unsure if they'd all left and then I blinked, and… everyone was back.' He recounted the event as clearly as he could remember. For a short moment, his Headmistress stood firm, discernibly stunned by what he had said.

'And you never thought to report his?'

'I never thought it report-worthy!' he defended himself. McGonagall sighed with disappointment, as if one of her students had failed an assignment horribly.

'Harry… In the future, you shall inform me _immediately_ if something out of the ordinary occurs. That includes sudden vanishings, odd names on that _damned_ map of yours, and even whispers, from now on. Do I make myself clear, Professor?'

She did. Abundantly so. In all honesty, Harry was feeling more than a little regret and guilt over causing such stress on his old professor of Transfiguration. Letting McGonagall down came with a heavy price, one he was now determined not to pay again.

'You do, Headmistress. I apologize.' He nodded his forgiveness, as McGonagall made to leave with a nod of her own.

 _Strange day_ , he thought, standing alone in the abandoned classroom. How had he gone from nearly weeping with happiness over Ginny's letter, to being assaulted by a student, then sharing an almost romantically tense moment with his best friend, before receiving yet _another_ reprimand from his Headmistress? And now Ron was here. Or rather, _there_ , with Hermione. What were they talking about? Had they made up? Was she telling him about their "moment"? Ron would be furious, he knew. He hadn't neither spoken or written to, nor received a letter from his oldest friend in several weeks by now, and perhaps it was time to formulate a short message if only to find out how things were progressing between him and Hermione. It _was_ a cheap move, he knew, but he needed to hear from him if Ron & Hermione had made any advances in their relationship… Suddenly overcome with an itch to check the Marauder's Map, Harry also made to leave the room.

* * *

 **AUTHOR** **'S NOTE:**

 **Thanks for reading and following along with my first ever fanfic! I never thought anyone would actually read any of it, let alone like it. I understand those of you who disagree with my choices/beliefs regarding the relationships of the trio - I** **don't pretend that my vision is universally true or that JK should have done it this way or that. This is simply my interpretation based on what I've read** _ **and**_ **what I** **'ve wanted for the characters for a long time.**

 **Please leave a review or send a PM with your personal thoughts, I** **'d love to hear some more feedback from more of you! I try to release one chapter per day, though that might slow down to maybe a couple of chapters per week.**

 **Again; thank you so much for reading and sticking with my silly thoughts and ramblings! I'll hopefully have another chapter by the after tomorrow.**


	6. Chapter 6, Just muggle things

Harry had written and sent his letter to Ron a good week ago by the 23rd of October, yet no owl had returned with an answer. He had told of his extraordinary day of petrifying a student and receiving a harsh scolding from Headmistress McGonagall, while carefully avoiding mentioning his time with Hermione. After asking the usual (how Ron was, how the Aurors faired, how Decima held up...), he then, as if it were an afterthought, casually worded a friendly question regarding Ron and Hermione's relationship. Specifically, whether they had found common ground regarding their differences and would be " _moving forward together_ _"_ , as he had put it in writing..

Hermione had left the castle a few days ago, citing urgent family matters. Headmistress McGonagall filled in as teacher of Transfiguration much to the temporary relief of Professor Granger's students, before they realized the Headmistress was at the very least _on par_ with Hermione regarding homework and strictness. What " _urgent family matters_ _"_ were, Harry never found out. Whether it concerned her husband or not was what Harry wanted to learn, but her letter never answered that particular question. Instead, they were to meet in the Room of Requirement later this very evening. For what, she did not tell.

Ron's unannounced visit the previous week had been a short one, according to the magical map Harry was now tapping impatiently while taking the brisk walk required to reach Hagrid's Hut by the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He had promised to visit the great half-giant and fiercely loyal friend of his as soon as he could, and wished the opportunity had come earlier - not only because Hagrid reminded him of the promise at every possible occasion, but because he genuinely missed the man that had been his first true introduction to the magical world and had carried him out of Godric's Hollow all those years ago.

Hagrid's face lit up when his enormous hands swung open the door to reveal Harry, before tears started flowing down his round cheeks, trickling into his bushy beard now sporting a few more gray streaks. Before he knew it, Harry was swept into a bone-crushing hug of sobs and unintelligible words. He managed to squeeze out a desperate gasp for breath as Hagrid loosened his grip, allowing Harry's feet to once again touch the floor of his friend's rather homely hut.

'F-Fang's -' Hagrid began, crying uncontrollably as Harry was still recovering from their painful embrace. Trying not to pay mind to his aching body, he approached the giant man who had slumped onto a chair, face buried in his hands. 'Fang's dead!'

'Oh…' he stood there, not knowing what to do. 'I'm - I'm so sorry, Hagrid. Fang was… He was always there. He was, _er_ \- brave. And gentle. I'll miss him dearly.' Harry finally said, laying a comforting hand on the large shoulder of his friend. His thoughts went to Hedwig, causing his throat to clench and hindering more words for the recently deceased pup of Hagrid's. Perhaps Fang and Hedwig were now together, waiting for their old human friends to join them.

'He was a bleedin' coward, he was. Still, 's… nice o' yeh to say that 'bout 'im,' Hagrid managed between sobs. 'He liked yeh, Harry, all three o' yeh.' Only Harry was there, though he of course knew who Hagrid was referring to.

'He might've been scared easily, Hagrid - but he never abandoned any of us despite it. That makes him the bravest old boy in my eyes.' Hagrid weeped even louder to this, clearly touched by the sentiment and nodding to the truth of it. 'Do… Do you want to hold a funeral for him? I could ask Ron and Hermione to come along?'

'He'd like tha'. Yeh're a good friend, Harry,' said Hagrid, though Harry wasn't so sure that he was. Whatever had happened between Ron and Hermione, and whatever was happening between himself and Ron, had most likely been affected by Harry's less than loyal behavior to his best friend and former Auror colleague. Yet, he hadn't crossed a line so far. He'd wanted to, several times in fact, but _that voice_ … That voice had stopped him, on more than one occasion. Could he really take credit for that?

When Hagrid finally arose from his struggling chair, his head grazing the ceiling, a small and chewed bone fell out of his pocket. Harry picked it up, but not before Hagrid started crying once more.

'Tha' was Fang's favori',' he said, trying a smile. 'Yeh can have it, Harry. Summat ter remember 'im by.' Harry pocketed it, not knowing what he would do with an old chewing toy but knowing he would never do any disservice to Fang's memory by admitting that to Hagrid.

He remained by his grieving friend's hut for a couple of hours, reminiscing about Fang, catching up on recent events, and even gossiping a bit about Hermione and Ron. No conversation lasted long without Hagrid bursting into tears as seemingly everything Fang-related triggered the waterworks: when Harry sat next to (not on) Fang's favorite spot, when he thought he heard a dog bark (it had been Harry's squeaking chair), and when he found Fang's old blanket.. Harry felt Hagrid's sadness wash over him as much as the giant's tears did when they hugged. He hadn't really known the dog too well, but seeing Hagrid like that wasn't easy. When he left, he did so with more than a slight feeling of remorse. He'd much rather stayed at his friends side, but the sun had now set behind the Great Lake, and Harry had made plans with Hermione.

* * *

'Harry!' Hermione practically yelled from the end of the hallway on the seventh floor, running to greet him as he walked around the corner.

'What's wrong, Hermione? Something happen with Ron?' he asked as Hermione flew into a hug. Had he asked about Ron too fast? Maybe it wasn't even his place to do so at the moment. Hermione didn't seem to pay it much mind, though, even as she quickly released the hug and took his arms to march them off into the Room of Requirement. The door was already there, and curiosity about what would be behind it was itching in Harry's mind like a small tingling he couldn't quite reach to scratch.

'Ron?' she replied, looking like she hadn't understood the question. 'No, it's…'

 _Cozy_ , was Harry's first thought. Cozy and… _almost romantic_. The room was small, about half the size of Harry's classroom. A table and two chairs decorated the center, lit up by flickering candles that floated above, while below them was a soft, scarlet carpet covering the floor until reaching a stone hearth from which a crackling fire radiated warmth and light. To the right of the table was a towering stack of books - reaching up from the foot of the chairs to their top, while a few feet to the left was a grey couch ladened with several blankets, pointing towards a blank canvas on the wall. Behind the couch, on some sort of tripod, stood what looked to be an old fashioned projector aimed right at the canvas. _What on earth was Hermione planning_?

'Hermione? This is… it's _brilliant_!' he admitted. 'But, _er_ \- why? What are we doing here?' Harry knew what he _wanted_ them to be doing there, though he was quite sure that wasn't what Hermione had in mind. She seemed to be hesitating to explain as Harry walked around the room, inspecting the magically produced furniture and the muggle-looking technology behind the couch. _Would that even work here?_ He wondered. Upon closer look, the stacks of books weren't _just_ books. There were some odd-looking boxes with strange colors and names such as _"Blackout", "Memory", "Settlers of Catan"_. It took until the box labeled " _Monopoly_ _"_ that Harry understood that they were in fact muggle board games. His mouth opened to ask, but before he could do so, Hermione answered.

'I… I thought we could, just, spend some time here. I - my mother is - she's ill. I've been with her and... St. Mungo's finally agreed to help, so I think she'll be alright. My parents insisted on me taking a break from them, and I couldn't really go home to…' she stopped mid-sentence, as Harry turned around from across the room to meet her eyes. It had been an unspoken thing between the two friends, but they both knew of it and what it meant. 'Besides, I haven't seen him since last week.'

For the second time of the day, Harry found himself struggling for words to comfort a close friend in a time of need.

'About your mother…I'm sorry. Is there anything we can do?' said Harry, feeling oddly repetitive. He wanted to find something else to say, something more comforting or helpful.

'I was thinking… We could just spend the day doing muggle things. Take our mind's off work for a while. And magic, maybe. I brought some of my parent's board games and a projector to watch a movie. If you want to, that is.' She finished. Of course he wanted to, but what would Ron think about them spending time, alone, in the Room of Requirement, doing " _muggle things_ _"_? Though, he supposed Ron did not need to find out… Expecting that voice inside his head to protest, to convince him otherwise - yet, no words came. Ron _did_ not need to find out. _And_ , he thought, it wasn't as if they were doing anything out of line or cheating their friend somehow.

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'I'd like that.'

Before long for the two of them had set up and played a few different games, taking turns to win and lose - something Harry realized Hermione might need some practice doing a bit more graciously, even though he was having a lot of fun laughing at her lack of composure when losing. It seemed to do her good to get her mind off of her work, off her mother's illness, off Ron… Her smile was almost carved on her face. He couldn't remember her looking that happy since the term started, and Harry wasn't sure he had heard her laugh as much in years. She became especially giggly after the room had supplied them with a box of red wine, which he knew Hermione must've brought with her as the room could not produce food or drinks by itself.

'Yahtzee!'

'We're playing Scrabble, Harry. You don't have to yell " _yahtzee_ _"_ in _every_ game, you know,' Hermione corrected him, giggling slightly as she did so.

'Well, I think it's fun. And I think I _should_ get to yell it when I get the word _"quidditch"._ That's got to be quite a lot of points, right?'

'Actually, if we're going by muggle rules…' she smirked.

'Don't you do that! I let you have " _transfigure_ _"_!' argued Harry.

'Transfigure is a word to muggles, too! But I'll let you have quidditch. _IF_ you agree to watch my movie of choice after.'

'About that, will that machine even work here? Don't muggle electronics stop working in Hogwarts?'

'A projector like that only uses a light-bulb, Harry. Honestly, when was the last time you even went to the cinema?'

' _Er -_ ' he hesitated. He'd never actually been to a movie theater, though he had heard about them. Mostly from his cousin Dudley, who often snuck into R-rated movies with his friends and loudly bragged about it in the absence of his parents. Not wanting to reveal anything of the sort to Hermione, he quickly shrugged and pretended to ponder how long it had been.

'I went with… Ron, a few years ago now. He never cared much for it, though. My parents used to take me when I was little. I've kind of missed it, actually..'

'Oh… And - do you, _er_ , did you enjoy the snacks? When you go to the cinema?' he asked, not really sure what it exactly was people enjoyed with the whole movie-going experience. Hermione eyed him with something resembling suspicion, though in her quite liquored-up state she screwed her face into a funny and confused sort-of look. Harry bit his lip not to laugh.

'You've never actually been to the movies, have you?' she assumed correctly, as she was wont to do. Harry nodded in admission. 'That won't do. We'll go to the movies, right now! I won't take no for an answer!'

'But.. what about this place? You don't have to take me to the movies, Hermione. I like it here!'

'Oh, stop it! The projector here doesn't even have sound! We'll come back here after. This wine is growing on me!' she added, taking another gulp of the delicious red.

'Well, I'm game for anything if you give me " _quidditch_ _"_ ,' said Harry, smiling.

* * *

'I didn't understand any of it!' Harry exclaimed as the two of them stumbled back into the Room of Requirement. 'Why the hell was the woman so in love with the big monkey?!'

'I thought it was pretty clear, myself,' Hermione bragged. 'she was the beauty, he was the beast. She learned not to judge based on appearance, and he learned to love himself despite of it. It was romantic!' she explained. Harry was wondering whether he would be the beast if he was in a relationship with Hermione, while his secret crush drunkenly shuffled to the couch in the corner of the room. _Of course I would_ , he thought, as her pretty (and now very red) face was framed by her shining and quite wild brown curls, a result of the night's drinking and stumbling around with her best friend.

A loud, single knock on the door to the room startled both of its occupants from their careless state. It shouldn't be possible, Harry knew. Only someone who knew the exact current purpose of the room would be able to find the door while it was in use. Another identical knock. Hermione's head shot up from the couch. Harry stood by the door, wondering if he should open or not. Surely, the intruder would do so soon anyway. His fingers caressed his wand as his other hand stretched out to the door. Another knock.

'Don't open it!' yelled Hermione from behind him. She was standing now as well, wand at the ready. He did not have to; as soon as Harry looked back at her, the door flung open outward, revealing a dark hallway with a lone figure in torn, brown rags standing a few feet back. It was a hideous sight; the man, if it indeed was a man, had a scalp full of old scars and indentations in place of hair. The left eye was missing, replaced by a gaping black hole, while the other eye was grey, surrounded by harsh blood red. The face was excruciatingly gaunt, as if food and sustenance had been a long lost luxury for it, much like the sun as its veins and and arteries nearly glowed beneath the thin layer of translucent and moonlight-pale skin. It was hard to place how old the being was, though it exuded a sense of an antiquated life that told the creature had lived for an unnatural long time. There was something familiar about him (or _her_ , he thought), though he could not place _why_ …

'Are you really Harry Potter?' the figure croaked, its voice as faint as a whisper. Harry was staring at him, transfixed by the strange face, the strange words, and the strange feeling of familiarity. Hermione shoved Harry out of the way, pointing her wand towards the intruder before Harry could respond to its question. 'Ah… magic,' it spoke with a condescending tone. 'Let's see it then.'

'Who are you?! What do you want with Harry?!' Hermione's words shook Harry into action, as he was now pointing his wand straight at the mangled face in front of him.

'I should think you would recognize me, Hermione. Though, I suppose it _has_ been a long time. Years, decades.. centuries even.' It spoke with such venom in its voice that Harry felt the hair standing on his arms and neck. 'I have waited a long time for this. _Expelliarmus_!' Harry and Hermione's wands flew back into the Room of Requirement, while their owners now stood defenseless against the slowly approaching figure.

'Leave her! Take me! Leave her out of this!' yelled Harry, stepping in front of Hermione much to her protests.

'And why should I do that, Harry?' it was almost laughing now, seeming to cherish every moment of having the two friends in this torturous state of anguish. Harry and Hermione backed further into the room as the creature walked around them with slow, menacing steps, calmly picking up their wands. As it bent forward, something glimmering and golden dropped out from its rags, catching Harry's attention. A familiar looking necklace. And this time, for once, Harry recognized what about it had been familiar: it was a time-turner. He knew what he had to do, but again it was Hermione who acted first.

'You're _Visla_! Aren't you?' she asked. It turned its broken face towards her.

'I've been called many names. Visla is among them. I prefer Valdr,' it answered coolly, now looking around the room as if inspecting it. Harry took careful small steps towards him, hoping his one missing eye would allow him to edge ever closer. 'I once thought you were better than this, Harry. Did I not tell you to stay away from her? Did I not warn you?' Harry stopped in his tracks, dumbfounded by the question. _Warned_? He'd never met this man before today, how could he have warned him to stay away from Hermione? And _why_? Unless…

'The voice! That's… That was _you_?' asked Harry. Hermione turned to him with a look of shock and horror. Valdr laughed at her reaction.

'He doesn't share much, does he? No, not Harry. Harry prefers secrets. Backstabbings. Lies and deceits.'

'What's it to you then, Visla?! What do you want?!' Hermione yelled, turning back to him fiercely.

They were now close to him. Harry fingered the object in his pocket. _Forgive me, Hagrid_ , he thought, before pulling it out and launching it straight at Visla's face with a quick underhanded throw. As Fang's old bone hit his remaining eye, sparks flew out of his wand in all directions while he yelled furiously. Harry was on top of him then, grabbing his arm to point his wand at the ceiling. Hermione grabbed their wands from his pockets right as something hit Harry's chest, causing him to fly backwards across the room and land on the soft carpet. A red streak wettened his white shirt where the pain burned, but he had no time to mind it. Hermione was blocking spells left and right from Visla, his pale face now red with fury. Hurrying to his friend's side and taking his wand from her other hand, he again caught that golden necklace hanging from Visla's neck.

' _Accio time-turner_!'

'NO!' shouted Visla, as his necklace pulled to get away from him. He grabbed the string to stop it from reaching Harry, and then…

'Where did he go!?' Harry yelled, striding around the room as if expecting to find their foe hiding away in a corner or crevice. He was gone. He had touched the necklace and disappeared as if apparating away. Hermione stood frozen to the spot, still shocked by the intrusion and attack. 'Where is he?!'

'He's gone, Harry!' Hermione finally answered. 'The time-turner must have activated. It can't have been a real one, they were all destroyed when…'

'Yes, I know. McGonagall told me he might have a broken or faulty one. Are you alright, Hermione? Did he hurt you?'

'And when were you planning on telling me this?' she asked, ignoring his questions as Harry turned to her. 'And that you have been hearing voices again?' Her nostrils flared. She was still panting quite heavily from the encounter with Visla. Harry couldn't blame her for being angry with him. He should have told her - about everything. Just when he was about to apologize and explain, Hermione opened her mouth to speak again. 'Last time you heard voices it was Voldemort and you almost died Harry! You could have died today!' she threw herself into a hug with him, a hug he felt undeserving of, but… It felt too good to stop her. 'Please Harry, please… talk to me. Tell me when something is wrong. Don't shut me out again. I can't lose you, too.'

'You won't. I'm sorry. I should have told you.'

'You should have!' she answered, pushing him away. She was still angry, he knew, but mostly relieved that he was in one piece. 'We need to tell McGonagall. She'll tell the Aurors, and we'll have to increase security in the castle.' Hermione took his hand and rushed them out of the room, heading for their Headmistress' office. 'Remember, this is the second time you've been attacked.'

'Second time?' he blurted out, before remember the incident with Miss Selwyn. 'That's not really the same, Hermione,'

'We still don't know what possessed her to jump you like that.'

'It's not like she was trying to kill me, or -'

'I wish you could take your own safety _slightly_ more seriously, Harry.

* * *

 **AUTHOR** **'S NOTE:**

 **I recently lost a dog due to long lasting health issues, so this chapter goes out to him: my Neo. Truly the bravest of old boys. He was afraid of almost everything, yet stood by me and protected me despite his fears. I never was a good enough person to deserve your unconditional love, but I** **'ll do my best to make you proud until the day we meet again.**


	7. Chapter 7, A few moments

It was odd, preparing for what was supposed to be a fun social gathering mere hours after being attacked. Luckily (or unluckily), being attacked wasn't anything new for Harry and Hermione. Of course, they did take the unexpected encounter seriously despite it not affecting them quite the same as it would most others - Headmistress McGonagall was informed immediately and issued a search of the castle grounds. After no signs of the man called _Visla_ , she decided to _not_ cancel classes and send the students home, though the debate to do so raged far into next morning in her office.

Now they had met him, though Harry still struggled accepting that the person that had attacked them without provocation was in fact a _him_ , they at least knew what they were up against. Glimpses of what he _could_ do, what he _wanted_ to do, and even one or two weaknesses, were invaluable revelations. He was no Voldemort in terms of magical prowess, yet he had effortlessly disarmed both Harry and Hermione with a swift flick of his wand.  
He enjoyed hurting Harry, which itself was nothing out of the ordinary. Harry could probably name hundreds of dark wizards or simple wrongdoers he had encountered, sent to Azkaban, or perhaps hurt in some other way that wanted revenge on him. Maybe the relative of a deceased Death Eater… Nothing conclusive could be determined of his background, even if his motivation was obvious.  
On the other hand, what had made itself clear was that he did not seem to be able to control his faulty Time-Turner, nor his emotions. Had he simply finished off Harry there and then, which he had plenty of opportunities to do and had apparently waited a long time for, Harry would not since that very moment be considering how he should approach finding this Visla, before he found them again. But, now was not the time. He was in his office, Hermione again sleeping on his bed, while he was standing guard and also laboring with the agreement he had made with Hermione after they left McGonagall's office. " _Don_ _'t let him consume you, Harry. Live your life. We will find him together, but we can not be obsessed with doing so,_ " she had said, before extracting Harry's promise that he would not go looking for Visla on his own, and that he would try to continue teaching and living at Hogwarts as he had done in the weeks prior to the attack. Of course she was right, Harry knew. But that did not make it easier. Yet there he was, deciding what he should wear for Professor Slughorn's party, and gathering courage to ask Hermione to be his date there.

 _Very_ odd, thought Harry.

There was only one Defence Against the Dark Arts class to be held that day, one which Silvia Selwyn would be attending (she still hadn't dared to look her professor in the eye since the incident). For some reason, as the last rays of the morning autumn sun shone into his silent classroom, Harry's sleepless mind wandered to when he himself walked into this very classroom for the first time. Quirinus Quirell had been his teacher. Despite his very un-creative name, his and Voldemort's secret collaboration had been quite clever, he had to admit. He had spent all year adamant of Snape's guilt, pursuing the old potions teacher with fierce determination until confronted with the truth of his wrong conclusions. Not that anyone could blame him; Snape _did_ behave less than kind towards the then first year student Harry. He was after all the son of James Potter, Snape's rival from their time in school. Not only did Snape have a burning jealousy towards Harry's father, he also had to live with the fact that the man he wanted so badly to hurt had chosen to save him, rather than let him die. It was the ultimate humiliation for him, Harry knew. _And_ , Lily Evans ended up becoming Lily Potter rather than Snape…

Harry's head then shot up so fast from his slumped seated position he heard and felt a loud crack from his neck, cursing his aging body before rushing into the back of his office where Hermione was sleeping.

'Hermione, are you awake?' he asked, gently poking her shoulder. No response. He had to tell someone… And he _had_ promised McGonagall…

* * *

'Yes, Harry?' answered McGonagall as the door creaked open to the Headmistress' office. The bags under her tired, red eyes revealed she had slept about as much as Harry that night, though she seemed still quite alert despite her advanced age and current sleep-deprived state. 'I trust you haven't been attacked by another mysterious person so soon?'

'Not yet, though I have some, _er -_ concerns about Visla I'd like to tell you about,' he answered, much to the apparent surprise of McGonagall.

'Go on,' she nodded.

'Do you… think it possible that Visla is a woman?' asked Harry. McGonagall's jaw dropped in shock as she seemed to struggle with what Harry had proposed, before she gathered her composure to try an answer.

'It is certainly possible, I suppose… Though I do not think it likely.'

'And… why, exactly?'

'Because, Harry, he - or, _it_ , doesn't really posses any quality that makes me believe it is anything other than a man.'

'But it doesn't really have any _defining_ male characteristics either, does it? I mean, it spoke with a.. whisper, almost. And the name " _Valdr Visla_ _"_ isn't really conclusive. It's got no hair to speak of -'

'Harry, I do not believe you would think this relevant to bring up at this time without a point. I suggest you get to it, before sleep catches up to both of us,' she quipped. Harry swallowed his pride. He had promised McGonagall to tell her about anything and everything, which included suspicions about the background of their enigmatic foe.

'Well… what if this Visla is someone close to me? Someone who's been angry with me for… for rejecting them. Romantically, I mean.' His mind again went to Snape, and his mother Lily. McGonagall seemed to consider this, though she apparently wasn't entirely convinced as she shook her head while answering.

'Again, I would say it is possible, but not likely.'

'But if it is possible, should we not explore that possibility?'

'And do what, exactly? Shall we ask Mrs. Ginny Wood here, perhaps? Miss Chang? Or do you suspect Miss Selwyn to have attacked you for the second time?' said McGonagall, rhetorically asking the increasingly desperate Harry.

'Actually, I was thinking of Decima.'

'Decima?! The Auror?!'

'The very same, yes.'

'I can not think you believe this, Potter. No. I have taught Miss Cely myself for seven years. She was a fine student, an excellent person, and I have to admit, quite like you in a lot of ways. Though I hardly think she would accuse a friend of such betrayals…'

'Pettigrew was my parent's friend, _Minerva_. And my mother's love for my father fueled Snape's hatred for him. Is it really unthinkable that she might act out, maybe in a fit of rage - maybe even _accidentally_ when tampering with a Time-Turner -'

'It _IS_ unthinkable.' Her look was now stern and determined. 'Decima is a dear friend of mi- yes I understand, Harry, that Peter Pettigrew betrayed James and Lily, but they are not the same people!' McGonagall said before Harry could interrupt again. 'Decima would never _think_ to attempt any act of revenge over lost love with or without a Time-Turner - tampered with or not!'

'Then _who_?' asked Harry. 'She said she waited for a long time! She said she thought I was better than that, than _being with Hermione_!' he had said too much, he knew. He hadn't _been_ with Hermione like that. He'd wanted to, of course, but he hadn't. He wouldn't betray Ron… McGonagall all the same gave him a shocked look at the revelation. She knew they had been together when they were attacked, though not that they _were_ together, as Harry had phrased it.

'Not _"She"_ , Harry. We still do not know -'

'I'm sorry, but I don't care, Minerva. I'm not saying I know for a fact that it _is_ Decima. I don't mean to accuse her like I accused Snape… I'm merely suggesting that we should look _into_ it.'

'And how do you propose we do that?'

'We bring her in. We question her. We ask if she feels any anger towards me, if she has anything to hide. I'm sure she'll consent to Veritaserum if she's as noble as you suggest -'

'I'm sure she would, but we will NOT ask that of her.' Harry knew he would lose that battle, but was surprised his Headmistress hadn't argued against his other suggestions. 'But… I suppose asking her here to answer a few questions would not hurt. In fact, it might do you good to see how very _wrong_ you can be, for once.'

'Good. It's settled then. I'll send her a letter today.' He made to get up from his chair, before she could change her mind.

'You will do no such thing, Harry. I forbid you from contacting her in _any_ way prior to her arrival.'

'What?! Why?!'

'It is not your place to ask why, _Professor_. I am your Headmistress. You will do as I say, understood?' her eyes fixed on his, as Harry bit his tongue to keep it in place. He would have to obey. For now.

* * *

Harry returned to his classroom to find Hermione pacing around, dressed in last night's jeans and a borrowed shirt of Harry's while so transfixed by a book as to not notice him entering. She slowly made her way around the room between the chairs and desks, unaware that Harry was observing her with the same intensity as she had for her current read. Harry made no effort to be noticed, though. _Just a few moments_ , he asked himself. _A few moments of her_. How had he known this woman for such a long time without admiring her beauty? Her adorable concentrated frown when reading. Her nearly-constant flustered and red cheeks. Her pretty little nose, and her quite shapely figure in those jeans… Had she never wore such fitting clothes before? Or was it something else that had made him blind to her up until these last few weeks? Maybe _someone_ else, he thought.

'Harry? When did you - where have you been?' she finally noticed being watched, much to Harry's disappointment.

'I - I went to speak with McGonagall. About Visla. What are you reading?' he nodded towards her book, trying to see the cover.

'Oh, it's… just a book I was given a while ago,' she said, closing it and putting it on a table beside her. 'Has she found out anything new? Why didn't you wake me up? I would have come with -'

'It's not like that, it was just a thought I had. About who Visla might be, or what sh - _er_ , it might want.'

'And?'

'I suggested that it could be Decima,' he said, trying not to convey his theory with quite as much conviction as he had to McGonagall. Hermione seemed less skeptical, not shaking her head in disbelief at least. She didn't know Decima as well, he knew. Maybe not at all.

'But… why? Why would Decima…' she began, before seemingly solving the puzzle mid-sentence. 'No. I don't… I don't think so Harry. I mean, it's not impossible if she were to have a broken Time-Turner. I suppose…' she turned around, walked towards one of the classroom windows overlooking the school grounds. Harry made to follow, awaiting eagerly for Hermione's thoughts. 'If it _was_ Decima, it would explain a lot. I guess we can't eliminate the possibility. So what do we do now?' she asked, turning towards Harry. They stood there by the window, quite intimately. More so than they had ever been before. Harry could not help but think that both their time together yesterday before the attack, and the attack itself, had brought them closer together.

'I suppose we wait,' he answered. Hermione's red lips parted in surprise. She could not be used to hearing her best friend suggesting they wait, he knew, though it was hard to focus on anything else other than her quite inviting lips. 'I was thinking about what you said earlier,' he said, trying to cause a distraction for himself. 'About how we should try to live our lives, not obsess…'

'You were?' she lit up, having looked a bit glum before.

'Well, yeah,' he replied. 'Of course I was!' Hermione's laugh at that confused him.

'Oh, Harry…' she smiled. 'I thought you would just ignore it and go after Visla yourself, honestly. Knowing you, I was surprised you even listened to the end of my rambling without _Accio-_ ing a broom to fly away with in an epic hunt of some sort, trying to be a hero, or -'

'Is _that_ what you think of me?!' Harry was feigning offense, trying not to join in on his friend's amusement. 'I am _offended_ , Hermione. Offended, I tell you. Why here I am, about to ask you to Slughorn's awful party, and you insult me to my face? For _shame_!' he gave in, chuckling along with her absolutely precious laughter.

' _I_ _'m_ offended that you would even felt the need to ask me, Harry Potter!' she took a step towards him as she gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder. Harry was fast, grabbing her hand quickly out of the air.

'That hurt!' he claimed, though her touch had done nothing more than tingling him like a jolt of electricity.

'Liar!' she slapped his other shoulder with her free hand, smiling as she did so. As Harry made to grab it too, she leaned her body back, causing him to almost fly towards her and put his arm behind her lower back to keep from them from falling. Harry's ears were hot, his pulse beating like loud and fast drums as he looked into her eyes, lost in the bright brown gaze that was meeting his stare. And then… she moved her face quite close… Their lips met as her pressure pushed Harry's head back. The cold wall stopped Harry from backing further up as Hermione's soft lips stayed on his, her hand rushing through his already messy black hair, while his hands were frozen at his side, still as shocked as he was about what was happening.

Hermione's head leaned back as she opened her eyes again, seemingly surprised at Harry's hesitance. _Do it_ , the voice told him. _Show me how much you care about me_ , it said. Ignoring it, while at the same time doing what it told, his hand went behind Hermione's back yet again, while his other to her face, caressing her skin softly and stealing her warmth before he leaned in to kiss her. This time matching her intensity as their tongues became intimately acquainted. Harry's hand dropped lower, feeling her all over her jeans-covered legs, grabbing whatever he could. Every single inch of her body he reached doubled his lust; rushing his beating heart faster and faster.

' _Er -_ ' someone had entered the classroom unnoticed. The two friends flew apart. 'Sorry to interrupt, professors. I… Professor Slughorn asked me to fetch Professor Potter.' Said Gryffindor Quidditch-captain Edmonde Elmbrigge, trying and failing not to stare at the two professors with two unblinking eyes.

'Mr. Elmbrigge, are you unfamiliar with the concept of knocking?' asked Harry. Hermione and he flustered and struggled to gather themselves in the surprise interruption.

'I did knock, Professor! I thought you might be in your office when no one responded, though…' he stood his ground, quite rightly so Harry had to admit.

'Well, consider me fetched, Mr. Elmbrigge. I will arrive at Slughorn's soon enough. You may leave.'

Edmonde made no effort to hide his relief at being forced out, his mouth practically watering with the juicy gossip he would be spreading to the rest of his classmates as soon as he could. Harry, on the other hand, made a lot of effort _not_ to look at Hermione, who he had a feeling was doing the same. Though it was she who spoke first to break the awkward silence:

'I'm… that was - it was stupid,' her cheeks were blushing as she looked down at the book she had been reading when Harry entered.

'Stupid?' Harry asked, perplexed by her choice of words.

'Not like that,' she said. 'It was… quite lovely. It's just… Well, Ron,' the elephant in the room no longer went unspoken of.

'Oh,' was all he could muster. All blood rushed out of his system, as that familiar dementor-like feeling swept over him. 'I thought you two were, _er -_ not -'

'It's complicated, Harry.'

'I understand it is. I don't mean to rush into anything, and I don't expect it of you either. Maybe it _was_ stupid. But I don't regret. And I never will,' where he found the spirit to say those words, or even found the words themselves, Harry was quite sure he wouldn't ever know. Hermione looked up, meeting his gaze once again, and again blushing quite heavily, though with a thin and almost hesitant smile.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

 **Sorry for ending this chapter abruptly, but I hope it will pay off. Again, I'd love to hear some more feedback, even if in a PM rather than a review! What do you think about Visla? Any theories? I hope I have planted a couple of seeds of doubt at least, and placed a few hints of what's really going on. Thanks for reading so far!**


	8. Chapter 8, Stealing the show

'Harry, my boy!' Slughorn greeted him as he entered his former professor and current colleague's office. 'And Professor Granger as well! Excellent, excellent! Two thirds of the famous trio that defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, here at our little supper. Most excellent, indeed!'

The room was already somewhat crowded, and there seemed to be more adult witches and wizards than students in attendance - there to see Harry and Hermione judging by their fascinated stares as the two of them entered. Being ogled like an animal at the zoo was nothing new for Harry, though Hermione was visibly uncomfortable with all the attention; shying away from the entrance as they walked in as a way to escape the host's lavishly over-the-top introduction of them. Either that, Harry thought, or it was the fact that the last third of the trio was missing that was causing her discomfort.

Wanting not to pay it much mind, he instead tried shifting focus to his colleague, shaking his hand before meeting the oncoming onslaught of people. Slughorn said something about _"one at a time"_ , though it did not seem to do much good. At least eight or nine people stood around Harry with his every attempt at a private conversation, clinging on to his every word as if he was some sort of prophet.

'Mathusela Tubney, Mr. Potter. It's so great to finally meet you!' one elderly witch with gray robes said.

'You may have heard of me, Mr. Potter! Lucas Ludd, at your service. I attended Hogwarts three years below your parents! Did they ever speak of me?' asked a hopeful wizard in his forties, before Harry could answer.

'Harry! We spoke at length in Diagon Alley once or twice concerning the You-Know-Who-problem! Abigail Chylton! I believe I gave you some decent advise, if I may say so…' Another witch claimed, though Harry was sure he had never seen her before.

He shook hands, smiled, and exchanged some pleasantries whenever he managed to get a word in. It did not take long for frustration to bubble up; at Slughorn for inviting so many who seemingly only wanted to meet him as if he was some sort of prize of his to parade, at all the people themselves who Harry knew really didn't mean any harm, but mostly at himself for not saying anything in protest at Slughorn's introduction of Harry and Hermione as they entered, and thus perhaps allowing this massive commotion to occur. He should have said something… Maybe asked him to not introduce them at all, and instead let them enter discreetly. Finally, the frustration reached overflow when someone literally pulled Harry back by the shoulder in an effort to catch his attention.

'Excuse me!' he burst out as he turned around, only to be face to face a familiar red-headed and freckled woman.

'Sorry _Mr. Potter_ , there is an urgent matter I need to discuss with you!' Ginny said, taking his hand and leading him away from the crowd of now stunned people that had surrounded him. She wasn't pregnant anymore, a tight-fitting black cardigan revealed. That would also explain the bottle of butterbeer in her other hand, and the slight wobble to her steps as they walked to a secluded part of Slughorn's office.

' _Er -_ Ginny, what exactly do you want to talk about?' asked Harry, trying his hardest not to sound half as fearful as he felt. _Where was Hermione?_ He wondered, knowing she would be an excellent backup in case Ginny had heard about their kiss just minutes ago.

'Oh, nothing in particular! I thought I'd save you from all your fans. You looked quite miserable in there!' she explained as they stopped behind a curtain. A gust of worried air exited Harry, and his heartbeat slowed massively in relief as his shoulders relaxed.

'I just - I don't understand why there are so many people here. Aren't these things usually… quieter?'

'Usually, yes. Though usually, Harry Potter doesn't attend,' she smirked. 'Aren't you gonna ask?' she put her hand on her now flat stomach, a stark contrast to when he last saw her.

'Oh, right, sorry! Congratulations!' he hugged her excitedly. 'Boy? Girl?'

'Girl! We haven't decided on a name yet, though I heard you've decided on a girl of your own. A certain student named Silvia Selwyn? Maybe we should name her after the future Miss Potter!' she joked, punching Harry on the shoulder. 'Really, Harry, I knew you had bad taste in women, but _students_? At your age! Think of the scandal if the Prophet heard about this!' It _would_ be a scandal, he knew, though Ginny seemed to find the idea quite amusing, to his annoyance.

'It's not funny, Ginny! She absolutely floored me - just jumped me while I was sitting on my chair! I swear I thought she had been drinking love potion -'

'And I heard they found no trace of it!' she laughed again. 'Maybe she just really likes you!'

'No, most certainly not! She's been avoiding me ever since, and I think… I'm still sure she didn't do it on her own volition. There was just something about how she was almost possessed in her determination…'

'Well, maybe she was? Possessed, that is. Does she remember the event?' asked Ginny, who of course had experience with possessions of her own back from her first year at Hogwarts. Harry remembered her telling that she had no recollection of her time under Voldemort's control.

'No… I don't think she did. McGonagall said something about her not having any memory of the entire day prior to the, _er_ , incident'

'Then you have to think about who would gain from it, from doing that to you. Can you think of anyone?' Ginny pulled back the curtain to take a suspicious look around the room. 'I never liked that Mathusela Tubney… She _was_ a Slytherin, you know.' The truth was, Harry couldn't think of anyone who would want a seemingly random student to forcibly kiss him. There was just no obvious goal or motivation, no gain at all from it, as far as he could see. If anything, it made him more on edge and less eager to be alone with anyone.

'Can't think of anyone, really. Maybe she was just… _enamored_ ,' he reluctantly suggested. Ginny chuckled, looking back at him from the now slightly fewer people in attendance.

'Thinking awfully highly of yourself, are we?'

'What? No! You just said -'

'I'm joking,' she flew into a hug with him again. 'Maybe you just have that effect on women! And I'm just glad you're alright. Little Harry would kill me if I told him you'd been hurt.'

' _Er_ , about that, Ginny,' Harry began after Ginny released him to look out behind the curtain again. Apparently she hadn't heard him, as she was now waving over Hermione.

She had a strange frown on her as she saw Harry and Ginny standing secluded in their corner of Slughorn's office, yet she nevertheless made her way over to them. Hermione had changed to her Hogwarts robes, fixed her hair into a single braid that swung gently behind her as she walked, and even found the time to put on makeup. Of course, Harry thought she didn't really _need_ the makeup or "fixing up", though he still appreciated the effort - an effort that was severely lacking from his part.

'Hermione! How have you been?! Harry hasn't told me anything about you, the little _git_. He just goes on and on about himself all the time! Not even bothering to ask me about my newborn child before I have to bring it up!' she and Hermione shared a laugh, while Harry pretended to be incensed.

'Not true! I was just telling her, Hermione, I swear!'

'About last night? Or…' Hermione shot him a worried look. Harry, shaking his head, tried to telepathically explain to Hermione that he had been telling Ginny about the attack, not their kiss.

'What happened last night?' Ginny asked, switching her staring between the two of them.

' _Er -_ nothing really, Ginny. It was just…' Harry began.

'Yes?' asked Ginny again, impatiently waiting for one of them to answer.

'We were, sort of, attacked,' Hermione admitted. Ginny's mouth opened to form a perfect circle shape. 'It's - we're fine, honestly. It wasn't too bad. Harry handled it well -'

'It was actually Hermione! I didn't do much at all, she dueled him and -'

'Dueled!?' Ginny yelled, as the closest people in proximity turned their heads towards them. 'And you didn't bother to start with this information _Mr. Chosen One_?! Merlin's beard, you two could have been killed!'

'No, really we had it under control -'

'Who was it?! Was it a Death Eater? Not a student, right?! I swear I'll hex them so bad they'll wish they could turn back time to when they weren't born!'

'We don't know _who_ it was, actually. Though Harry has some ideas, I suppose,' said Hermione, looking over to him.

'AND?!' Ginny was quite furious, her face redder than usual - even her freckles seemed to glow in anger. 'Tell me!'

' _Er_ \- I thought, maybe it could be… Decima?'

'Decima?! Decima! _Decima_?' repeated Ginny. Realizing she probably didn't know who Decima even was, Harry made to explain it but was again slower than Hermione to react.

'Harry's ex-girlfriend and colleague, that is. We saw that she had a Time-Turner, a broken or faulty one in any case, and he believes she might be out for revenge on Harry for being with m-' Hermione stopped herself, but not before Ginny picked up on what she was about to say.

'… with..? With you?'

'N-not like that, Ginny. We were just hanging out!' Hermione replied, though Ginny gave an entirely unconvinced impression as she looked at them with a both incredulous and shocked expression.

'Did neither of you think that - if it indeed is this _Decima_ with a Time-Turner, that she might be from the future? That she could have seen _more_ than just you two, " _hanging out_ "?

They hadn't considered that. At least, Harry had not. And, judging by the guilty look on Hermione, she hadn't either. It was a strange thought, though - Harry was quite sure that had the attack _not_ happened, he and Hermione would not have shared a kiss the day after. Was it Decima, or whoever this _Visla_ was, who inadvertently caused the progression of their relationship to the point of romance, and thus sending herself on the path of revenge that would in fact cause the kiss? Thoughts of time-travel and causality-loops, and self-fulfilling prophecies raced through his all-too slow and untalented mind. It was… _too complicated,_ Harry thought. At least to him. Hermione would know. She always did.

'I guess we'll find out,' he finally answered, turning the two women's attention to him. 'McGonagall's bringing her here for questioning.'

* * *

A few hours had passed. Few, but long and miserable hours. Hermione and Ginny had walked off shortly after finding out about Decima's impending arrival. They were still somewhere in and around Slughorn's office, probably discussing what had happened between Hermione and Ron that could have caused Hermione to do something so _"stupid"_ as to kiss Harry. Wanting very much to break every piece of furniture he could get his hands on in frustration and anger, he instead somehow managed to find the focus to mingle around the party in anticipation for dinner. Edmonde Elmbrigg was quite keen to avoid his Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts, though many other students were not. To Harry's great disappointment, his old friend Neville was not in attendance, and with only students and fans left to talk to, he eventually found himself a little spot next to a high, wooden shelf, filled to the brim with glass vials containing all kinds of colored liquids and labels often in strange languages. One transparent trinket enclosed a purple slime of some sort, bubbling up sparkles every now and then, its label reading " _Zix-Tux_ _'s Kiss_ ".

'Ah, admiring my collection, I see! Still have an eye for Potions, don't you, Harry! Why a man with your talent, you could take my spot as well, after I retire!' Slughorn joined his side, putting a friendly arm around Harry's shoulder. 'That one, my dear boy, is _quite_ useful, I must admit. Useful, but also dangerous. Which is why I have placed more than enough protections around it to keep prying hands away,' he laughed.

' _Er_ \- what does it actually do?' asked Harry, not really wanting to know but struggling to find anything else to say.

'I should think you of all people would know, my boy!'

'Why is that, exactly?'

'Well it… it was supposed to be used on - the night He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named…'

'Murdered my parents, you mean?' Harry impatiently added. He was starting to get a bit curious about what the strange little trinket contained.

'Yes, yes… Well, you see, some things can not be repaired by _wand_ magic, and some wounds can not be mended by Healers. So… potions often come in handy! This one, _Zix-Tux_ _'s Kiss_ , that is, is very capable of both repairing damages and healing wounds, if brewed _and_ used perfectly correct,' Slughorn explained, though laboring quite extensively when doing so. Harry always knew his old professor to struggle when talking about both Voldemort and the death of his parents. In fact, Slughorn struggled with almost every subject he deemed _uncomfortable_. But, Harry _was_ curious, so he pressed on.

'And where was this supposed to be used, exactly?'

' _Er -_ You see, there was this debate, amongst some… That the potion be used to repair your parent's house in Godric's Hollow. Or even remove your scar! Dumbledore argued against both, though. He knew better. _Zix-Tux_ _'s Kiss_ doesn't just " _fix_ _"_ everything. Even _if_ used and made correctly, it always comes with a risk.'

'A risk? What kind of risk?'

'Well… it depends. On what you use it. I myself have only used it to fix one or two broken but valuable goods, so my risk was apparently only superficial! Minutes after using it, I've burned myself, or cut myself, or even fallen on my rather large belly,' he gave an awkward laugh. 'That hurt, I have to admit! But it has always been worth it.'

'And, if you were to use it on something larger?'

'It's not really about size, Harry. It's about the extent of the magical damage.'

Harry considered this for a while, staring at the still bubbling purple slime. Wondering just _how_ this could be used on his parent's house, and on himself even. Would he have wanted that? Surely, as a child, less people would recognize that he was Harry Potter, and he would have been able to live in the house he had lived in as an infant, with his parents. But… _no._ No. It stood there, its ruined state a monument to their sacrifice. His scar an evidence for the same. Today, he wore it proudly, and would continue to do so until his last day, he knew. The thought of his old Headmaster Dumbledore defending the existence of the lightning bolt-shaped mark on his forehead brought a smile to his face, one he had sorely needed today.

'Thank you, Horace. It's been a lovely little get-together, so far. When is dinner? I'm quite famished, you know!' he returned a friendly arm back on his colleague's shoulder, to Slughorn's apparently great relief.

* * *

Dinner found Harry sitting between Hermione and Ginny as they mostly and excitedly talked over him about Ginny's and Wood's fourth child. Potential names, her siblings, cousins, and more newborn-stuff were discussed as Harry halfheartedly attempted to listen and more rarely join in. The food was decent, the drinks sublime, and the atmosphere buoyant. All this did nothing to help Harry's eyelids starting to weigh quite heavily, as he was struggling to stay awake despite the loud noise and buzzing voices around him. He hadn't slept well now for what must have been days, he remembered - though he tried to think about something else than sleep.

He became slightly more alert when he realized that he hadn't heard the girls discuss Harry and Hermione's potentially romantic future, before reminding himself that Ginny still probably didn't know about the kiss and that Hermione had most likely talked to her about the night they were attacked and how it had been quite innocent, which it was, in fairness. So back he went, into that sweet lull right between the dream world and the waking one - sometimes opening his eyes and prickling is ears to hear that he must have missed several seconds of dialogue, as he was then lost in Hermione's and Ginny's conversation.

It wasn't before something interrupted all the talking for Harry to snap out of his drifting state. Something that made every head turn towards the door behind him. Harry didn't really have the strength or energy to turn around and see what every one was already seeing - until Hermione bolted out of her chair.

' _Ron!_ _'_


	9. Chapter 9, Pursuit and loss

It was a dog. A bright-white, translucent Jack Russell Terrier - ambling right towards the lot of them sitting around Slughorn's table, save for the now standing Hermione. The sight of her husband's patronus had caused her to stand up so fast her chair had flown back and landed on the floor, now still creaking as it swayed gently, the only sound breaking the silence of the stunned and transfixed masses.  
Ginny stared at the little four-legged creature with her mouth open, a worried look plain across her freckled face, while Harry's eyes darted back and forth between the dog and Hermione, until the dog suddenly came to a stop just a few feet away from them, its tail wagging happily.  
Without warning, it turned around and ran right through Slughorn's door - waking Hermione, Harry, and Ginny from their hypnotized state. No word was needed for the three of them to start their chase. It ran left along the corridor outside the office, stopping at the end of the hallway by the corner to look back at its three pursuers. Harry was fastest, having nearly caught up with the patronus when it swung around to dash away again. _Where was it going?_ He wondered, as they ran and ran; down stairs, along corridors, through doors… _Up_ stairs, past paintings, into and out of rooms… Sweat poured down Harry's face as his lungs and heart struggled to keep up with his sprinting legs. A quick look behind him told that he had lost Ginny and Hermione, but the astonishingly fast dog always stopped to wait for Harry to catch up if it got too far away.  
His breathing became strained, less and less oxygen managing down his airway. The muscles that carried him screamed from tiredness, begging him to stop. By the time he caught up with Ron's patronus for the at-the-very-least twentieth time, his shirt was soaked and his pulse so deafening it drowned out the noise of his running, as he ran what he knew would be his last steps. Just when he reached the corner, a croaking voice came from around it. He turned the corner and barely lifted his right foot when it caught on something, and before his tired body could react, he landed face first one the cold stone floor. Something sticky ran down his aching nose and into his mouth as he was heaving himself up, wiping away the blood with both his hands as he did so. The voice was gone, replaced by the sound of sprinting footsteps down the corridor away from him. His glasses were broken, and the wand he was grabbing aimlessly for had landed somewhere in the darkness of the hallway where his blurred vision could not find it. Something transparent and white stood at his feet, faintly illuminating the thing Harry had tripped on. It was… a heap of robes? _No._ At the foot of the robes was a cluster of red - not blood red. More… _Weasley-_ red.

'Ron!' he yelled. 'Ron, wake up!' Harry was shaking his friend, trying to find any evidence he wasn't dead. His bloody hands desperately searched for his throat… _A pulse!_ It was faint, but it was there! He could cry, but there was no time. _Where was his wand? His wand, his wand!_ He could not find it, and pleading to the dog that was now sniffing its conjurer's robes did not help. _Unless_ … Shoving his one bloody hand right into the pocket of Ron's robe where his patronus was sniffing, he found his best friend's wand inside. ' _Reparifors!_ _'_ Harry tried. _'Revitas!'_ Nothing. _'Vivicus! Hum Riditus! Apneo!'_

Harry didn't know which of his spells - if any, had done it. But there he was, still lying on the floor, yet now gasping for air. A quick and silent flick of Ron's wand supplied light from the tip of it, revealing that there was something… _different_ , about Harry's best friend. He looked drained, somehow. As if he had experienced something harrowing and barely survived. He was pale, more so than usual, and as his breathing calmed, the dark blue bags under his eyes became even more evident. His groggy eyes opened and almost drunkenly tried scanning their surrounding, before landing on the bloody face above.

'H-Harry?' Ron's voice barely escaped his mouth.

'Yes, it's me Ron. It's Harry. It's your Harry… Who did this? Who did this to you?'

'Decima - Decima tried to -' he coughed up drops of blood as Harry was helping him to sit up and lean against the wall. So it was Decima? _Treacherous little_ _…_ Harry thought of a word he was deeply ashamed to have even considered. Hurting Harry was one thing, but going after his friends… When they weren't even with him? She was stepping up the ante. 'She was fighting… someone. I don't know who,' he said, holding his ribs. 'Who made the patronus? It's just like mine!'

'You didn't?' Harry turned to look at the dog, its tongue hanging out of its mouth.

'Are we - No… Are we in Hogwarts?!' asked Ron as he looked around their dark hallway, lit up only by his own wand.

' _Er -_ yeah, where did you think you were, mate?'

'When did I get here? How long have I been out?'

'I was hoping _you_ _'d_ tell me that! I just found you like this! We were up at Slughorn's office when your patronus came running in to fetch us. I followed it to find you out cold here… whereever _here_ is. I don't think I've been to this part of the castle before… Do you remember anything? Anything at all?'

'I don't - I don't know,' Ron rubbed the back of his skull. 'I remember… There was a letter. And… I came here to Hogwarts to see Hermione… When I left, someone spoke to - wait! That was that… that _someone_ Decima was fighting! Yeah, he had a… kind of a weird face and brown rags! And he only had -'

'One eye. Yeah, that's him. Valdr Visla,' said Harry, completing Ron's sentence with a sigh. 'We met him once, too.'

So Decima was fighting Visla. That meant that Harry had either drawn the wrong conclusion yet again, as he was wont to do and had done so much in the past - often leading to disastrous results. His subconscious mind flooded him with images of Sirius, of the Department of Mysteries, and of Bellatrix Lestrange. He could not afford making those kinds of mistakes again… Then again, what _if_ she was dueling her future self? The thought was… _out there_ , Harry knew, but was it impossible? Why would it not be possible for one to use a Time-Turner, broken or not, to fight oneself?

'What do you mean " _met_ _"?_ Who's _we_? Did you fight him?' Ron took him back from his thoughts to their dark hallway.

'First thing's first. I'll tell you everything, but I have to know. Do you know where Decima is? You said you saw her fighting Visla?'

'I - yeah… Yeah, I remember her… dueling that Visla bloke, but I can't place it. I can't remember where. Or when. I don't even know if it was - you know, _real_. Might've been in my head, mate. I don't know…'

'Might have been, I suppose… But that doesn't mean it wasn't real,' he said, echoing the words of his former Headmaster. 'I'll be honest with you Ron, but you'll have to promise not to be mad.'

'What? Why?' he asked. Harry had a feeling Ron would be on his feet, much more worried and red-faced, if he had the energy to do so. Instead, he spoke with an almost calm and collected voice.

'I, _er -_ I was with Hermione, in the Room of Requirement when it happened.'

'When _what_ happened?' he now spoke slightly louder, clearly getting worked up. Hopefully, he would let Harry speak his end. What had happened that night was after all quite innocent and friendly. Though, what the night later led to…

'Visla attacked us. He opened the door - I can't tell you how, took our wands and we barely managed to fight him off,' Harry explained. Ron breathed a sigh of relief, though wasn't done with his inquiry yet.

'What were you doing in the room, then? And why'd he attack you? Who even is this _Valdr Visla_? I've never heard of him!'

'We were just there to play some boards games and watch movies. Hermione's mum had been ill and she'd been gone from school for a while, I think she wanted to have some time off. About Visla… We don't really know. I mean, I have theories, but it feels more ridiculous for every second I think about it…'

'Yeah? Let's hear it, then,' Ron quipped, clearly (and quite understandably) not happy that his wife and best friend had been socializing in a secret room. If Harry didn't know better, he would have thought _Ron_ might have attacked them that night too, if he knew about it when it happened. At least he now knew nothing out-of-line was going on.

'Well, you're not going to like it Ron.'

Fast approaching footsteps turned their attention towards the end of the hallway. Harry stood up, pointing Ron's wand towards the darkness while its owner still sat leaning on the wall in anticipation.

'Who's there?!' Ron called out as Harry shushed him into silence. The steps edged closer ever faster by Ron's voice. A silent ' _Accio glasses_ _'_ and ' _Reparo_ _'_ gave Harry back his full sight, just in time to see Hermione followed by Ginny entering the light provided by Ron's wand.

'Ron!' Hermione dropped to the ground to embrace him while Ginny gave Harry a hug in relief. 'Where have you - When did you get - How - Why are you here? What happened?' Hermione managed in between her panting.

'We thought we'd lost you, Harry. Hermione ran to take the map from your office. It was quite brilliant, honestly,' said Ginny.

'What were you thinking, Harry?!' Hermione screamed at him accusingly. Harry was completely lost. What had _he_ done? Had he not found as fast as he did, he might not have made it… The thought made him shudder. 'What if it was a trap?! What if you were alone and faced that Visla?!'

'It was _Ron_ _'s_ patronus. What was I supposed to do? Wait for you to catch up? What if it had been to late?'

'You could've died!' she stood up to face him. 'You _both_ could have died!'

'He saved me -'

'Don't _you_ start!' Hermione snapped at Ron.

'Hermione!' Ginny yelled at her. 'Everyone is here. Everyone's safe. Now we need to focus on making sure that everyone's alright before we start turning on each other,'

Hermione accepted the truth of that with a reluctant silence. A sigh of relief left Harry as the cold wall behind him made him realize he had backed into it as Hermione was rounding up on him. Ginny picked Ron up by the hand, Harry gave him back his wand, and Hermione gave him another hug while his knees and legs were shaking. Harry's wand was a few steps further away. A sense of nostalgia and familiarity swept over him as he gripped his wand tightly, silently promising not to lose it again. They tracked their steps backwards, slowly marching towards the Hospital Wing as Ron hobbled with his one arm on Ginny's shoulder, catching up on everything family related. Ron hadn't heard about her and Wood's newborn, nor of anything else that had happened the past week. _Where had he been_? Harry and Hermione walked behind them side by side, both apparently waiting for the other to speak. Suddenly, she leaned closer to him, her fingers sliding into his hand and interlocking with his. A tingling sensation spread from his core out to every extremity.

'I'm… glad you're alright, Harry. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that.'

'No, you were right. This was… It was exactly the same as Sirius. I should have listened to you then, and I shouldn't have left you behind now. I just got lucky this time,' he said. Hermione looked at him with large eyes. Harry did not speak of the day his godfather had died too often, and even less about the circumstances and his insurmountable guilt ever since. Had he not been tricked… Had he listened to Hermione. Had he not been so eager to be _"the hero_ ". Of course, that wasn't why he went headfirst into the Department of Mysteries, but had he maybe been less inclined to think he had to do everything himself, Sirius might still be alive. Hermione squeezed his hand harder after his admission as they shared a look. 'And you were right about the other thing, too. It was… _stupid_ ,' he admitted, though it still felt wrong to say it out loud. His eyes went to his red-headed best friend limping ahead of him, guilt piling up with every step.

'It - Maybe it was. But… I don't regret it. I don't regret anything with you,' a quick kiss on Harry's cheek caused a palpable blush on his face, and a warm feeling to spread out from the touch of her lips.

* * *

The four of them arrived at Madame Pomfrey's as if nothing had changed from their time as students, which the elderly Healer was quick to remind them of. Ginny was a welcome addition to the regular trio and stayed for a while to discuss what had happened, give her thoughts on Visla and Decima, and chatted with Harry about Little Harry & Hermione for a while before excusing herself to return to her family. Ron was hesitant to accept Harry's theory on Decima being Visla, especially as he thought he had seen the two duel not long ago. For now, he seemed so happy to be spending time with Hermione without having a row or disagreeing on just about everything that he refused any assistance to fall asleep - despite Madame Pomfrey's insistence that he needed it. _'I'm not a student anymore, Poppy!'_ he complained. ' _In my Wing you might as well be!_ _'_ she retorted. A feeling of not-belonging made itself known as Harry was standing there by his friend's bedside. Not wanting to intrude on a rare moment of peace between husband and wife, he felt the need to leave them alone, though he could not do so without being noticed. Cursing the absence of his invisibility cloak, he decided against it - instead opting to stay back and letting the two of them talk in private.

Eventually, Ron's tiredness caught up with him as he drifted into a deep and snoring slumber. Hermione sat next to him, a wet tissue in one hand and Ron's limp hand in the other.

'How did, _er -_ how was he?' Harry asked awkwardly, approaching Hermione with careful steps. She looked up at him as though she had forgotten he was there, nearly jumping at his sudden question. Maybe he should have left, he thought.

'Oh… He's - going to be alright. Pomfrey says there's nothing wrong with him except a few bruises. Whatever spell you thought to do must have really helped.'

'I didn't really do anything. It was that patronus that saved him, not me. I could have caught Decima if I hadn't -'

' _If_ it is Decima. And give yourself _some_ credit, Harry. Besides, neither Ginny nor I caught up with it in time,' she said, rubbing her tired eyes. It was true enough, though it didn't make Harry feel any better about himself. He had betrayed his best friend's trust, he missed the opportunity to catch Visla, and now he even dared to feel sorry for himself as Ron was lying injured in the Hospital Wing… 'I do wonder, though,' Hermione continued. 'Who could have sent that patronus?'

'It's Ron's isn't it?' a confused Harry answered. 'He must have called it before Visla came.'

'But why? Why would he? I don't understand,' she admitted, perhaps for the first time ever.

'I don't know. As a precaution? If he knew he'd lose? It'd be hard to find him where he was without it.'

'I suppose… Well, I think we both need some sleep, Harry. You look exhausted, you know.' Harry's extreme tiredness made itself known once again as she said it. He hadn't slept since before the attack in the Room of Requirement. Since before his visit to Hagrid, even, which itself felt like a lifetime ago. 'When was the last time you slept?'

'I, _er -_ yesterday,' he lied. 'Are you staying here, then?'

'Yes, I think I should,' she looked down at her feet. Harry wasn't disappointed. He had expected her to stay, though an apparently shameless part of him had hoped against hope that she would follow him to his chambers. A part of him that Harry knew he might never be rid of. Nodding to her, he turned to leave the Hospital Wing, allowing the married couple a night together as he departed to be alone. Again.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

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	10. Chapter 10, Hate to love

The days following everything that happened post Harry's Hagrid-visit passed in a blur of sleep, rushing down to the Great Hall for quick bites of food, staring at the Marauder's Map, and more sleep. Ron had left Hogwarts on the Monday after spending the weekend with Hermione, though not in her chambers by night, to Harry's great relief. Knowing it was an incredible selfish sense of relief but not being able to help himself from feeling it, he instead seemed to be punished by recurring nightmares of Hermione carrying a red-headed child, with a beaming Ron glowing with pride at the sight and the Weasley-family standing around them. Harry was there as well, though alone and unnoticed. No matter how much he tried getting their attention and making himself heard, they always ignored him. Or at any case, did not hear him.

A full week later saw the day of the Halloween Feast. Harry had been busy teaching, he'd attended Fang's funeral alone with Hagrid (Hermione had been away), grading papers, and, whenever he had the chance, nagged his Headmistress about their upcoming questioning of Decima. Apparently (and quite unsurprising to Harry) no one had seen her in a few weeks, which was something of an obstacle in their quest to bring her to Hogwarts.

His office was cramped. His bed messy, his floor covered with clothes, and his desk and chair cluttered with everything from letters and parchments, to coffee stains and quills. Several editions of the Daily Prophet laid crumbled in and around the bin, mostly unread or partly skimmed. Nothing of interest was ever printed these days, it seemed.  
His sleeping chamber wasn't big, but it was his - and Harry had never needed a large bedroom. He was alone. A part of him had hoped Hermione would have shared his bed by now, rather than once or twice sleeping in it without him. That would of course not be happening now, with her and Ron's apparent rekindling. It was for the best, he knew, though he had not actually heard whether or not they had in fact gotten back together again. It was an easy assumption to make as Hermione lately seemed to be avoiding Harry, not even appearing in the Great Hall for breakfast, lunch or dinner whenever he was there. In that regard, the Halloween Feast would be an excellent opportunity to catch up with his best friend - for whatever had happened or indeed _was_ happening between them, they were still best friends.

Otherwise, the past week had progressed without any odd sightings, attacks, or even phantom whispers or footsteps. In other words, they were none the closer to catching Visla, or even finding out who he or she really was. The strangest thing was the fact that so few people in the castle were even aware of the potential danger they were in - no one had heard about the attack in the Room of Requirement, and only the trio, Ginny, and McGonagall knew about Ron's mysterious appearance last week. Everyone walked around, studying, playing, eating, drinking, and sleeping without a single clue. It made Harry think of how much he must have missed in blissful ignorance when he attended the school, not knowing what was going on between the teachers, what Dumbledore was doing all those times he wandered the castle at night, or even what the Room of Requirement had been used for by the previous generations of Hogwarts students. The mental image was unpleasant. What happened in that room ought to stay there, he thought.

Harry was struggling to force himself out of bed, despite the potential of finally speaking with Hermione. He wanted to hear what she had to say, what had happened between herself and Ron, and what she wanted with Harry. But, then again… If her answers were what Harry thought they were going to be, did he really want to hear them? A groan escaped him as he eventually left the comfort of his bed, waving his wand to give the room a swift and long-awaited clean up. His teacher's robes were dirty and unkempt, much like his messy morning hair. Another flick of his wand fixed that, though nothing could fix his hair, he knew. He proceeded to pick up trash from around his desk by hand before sorting the papers and parchments with magic. The cleaning routine was giving him a sense of productivity - even Hermione would be proud of how spotless he had made it!

Two hard knocks on his door followed by a voice belonging to said Hermione startled him from admiring his work. _Speak of the devil_ , he thought before opening the door.

'Hey, m- Harry!' she greeted him, without a hug or her usual warmth. Instead she stayed by the door, dressed in what seemed to be clothes that were far too large for her.

' _Er -_ hi! What are you doing here, Hermione?'

'I… I came to see you, of course. I was just going to ask… Remember that night in the Room of Requirement?'

'Yeah. Of course I remember. Why?'

'I just thought that… Well, could you tell me what happened? I think… I'm having some trouble remembering. Did something happen between us that night?' Harry was stunned by the question, completely unprepared by the bluntness of her apparent forgetfulness.

'What? No, we just… Wait, what do you mean you don't remember? Are you feeling alright, Hermione?'

'Yeah, of course! It's just… it feels weird. Are you sure nothing happened?'

'Nothing happened that night. Well, except the attack, that is. Are you thinking about the kiss? I mean, we've talked about that, haven't we? But that wasn't until next day… Why? Is Ron asking?' Harry wondered, his guilt bubbling up again by the thought of his friend finding out about his wife's and best friend's moment in Harry's office. Luckily, and despite Harry's judgment, Mr. Elmbrigg, who had seen the kiss, had seemingly not spread word of it. Not yet, at least.

Hermione did not answer. Instead, she clenched her fist and shut the door with a loud bang before striding off in anger. _What was that?_ Finding it… _bizarre_ that she supposedly had forgot what happened on what was unquestionably the most eventful night in seven years, he replayed the night in question in his mind - trying but failing to see if there was anything she could have been alluding to. Something wasn't right with her, despite her claiming otherwise, he thought.

* * *

'Yes, Mr. Sterling?' Harry sighed. The young Ravenclaw was an eager learner, and perhaps the most talented wizard among the third year students, though he did not possess the knowledge on when to stop asking questions. 'What part of the Disarming Spell was unclear?' he asked, immediately regretting his passive-aggressive tone. The youngster did not appear to mind it or even pick up on it, though.

'Nothing, Professor Potter! I was just wondering… Well, is it true that you could produce a patronus when you were our age?' the question left him perplexed. How had this little kid learned that? Harry knew that Mr. Sterling's parents were higher ups in the magical ministry (something Slughorn knew very well when he invited him to his Slug Club), and as such were privy to a lot of information about him. Though he doubted they had gossiped intimate knowledge of Harry's youth to their child.

'It is true, yes,' Harry answered to the gasps of wonderment of his class of Ravenclaws and Slytherins. 'Though, I only learned it after hours and days of practice. And only because I absolutely needed it, after being affected more than most by the presence of dementors that year. I used to faint in their presence, you know!' he added truthfully. It had the opposite effect of what he had hoped for. Instead of settling the class down, they were now talking amongst themselves about how amazing his feats were and how he had _"fought off a thousand dementors at once on the quidditch pitch"_ or " _single-handedly caught the first escaped prisoner of Azkaban!_ _"_ with less truth and more outlandish claims for every second that passed… 'Settle down, settle down!' he commanded. Children were harder to control than adults, yet his story, if one could call it that, had increased their respect of him. They silenced at once. Several more hands flew into the air as their attention went back to their teacher. 'Mr. Boote, do you have a question pertaining to the Disarming Spell?' he asked with increasing desperation, fearing the answer.

'Will you teach us the Patronus Charm, Professor? Please?' asked the brown-haired and quite tall Ravenclaw Beater. Several other heads nodded in agreement.

'Alright, I'll make you all a promise. I will teach you the Patronus Charm - _If,_ and _only_ if, each and every one of you are able to demonstrate every spell on our curriculum this first term. Let's say you have until… The day before Christmas Break. Yes, that will do, I think. I will pair you up with someone from a different House, and if you are struggling with anything, you will refer to your partner for help and guidance until you both figure it out. Understood?' nodding heads and murmurs of agreements filled the classroom. 'Good. Now, back to _Expelliarmus_. Can someone tell me - _Yes, Miss Abbott_?'

'Are we allowed to ask other teachers for help? I saw Professor Granger make a patronus once, I think it was a reindeer, or something…'

'It was a moose!' corrected Priscilla Parsons.

'No, it was a small horse, idiot!' yelled Rafe Wolrond.

'Quiet!' demanded Harry, magically closing all the window curtains and showering the room in near total darkness. A swift silence occurred, before he slowly let the curtains roll up again. 'You may of course use any help at all, including books and teachers not included in this classroom. I will remind you, though, that I will not accept lagging behind in other lessons or missing any essay deadlines on account of this… _special_ task. _And_ ,' he added, the students gripping on to his every word with great suspense. 'Mrs. Granger's patronus is an otter.'

* * *

The day was passing slowly, each tick of the clock feeling like an eternity as Harry longed for the sweet release of dinnertime. He did enjoy teaching, more so than he ever thought he would, but his strange encounter with Hermione had put his mind solely on the impending feast that evening. Reading through the first year's essay on _"Identification & Avoidance of Bowtruckles_" wasn't particularly engaging in the meantime, he had to admit.

 _Bowtruckles are mostly harmless and live on trees. They form societies known as tribes and possess two different kinds of camouflages - Passive and Defensive_ _…_

 _A Bowtruckle is a creature that looks like a tree, lives on a tree, breeds on a tree, and dies on a tree_ _…_

 _One of my favorite creatures are Bowtruckles because they are pretty. There are two kinds of them according to books and what I_ _'ve seen. Angry ones, and nice ones…_

 _Bowtruckles are mostly harmless and live on trees. They form societies known as tribes and possess two different kinds of camouflages - Passive and Defensive_ _…_

Harry made a note to give the two Bodgeberry-twins detention for copying each other's work. He couldn't help but smiling at their effort, though. They had obviously hoped that their famous professor would not be bothered to actually read their essays. _If only_ , Harry thought, throwing another quick look at the clock above his desk. Hours to go, still…

As if someone had heard and was answering his prayer, a perfect distraction appeared in the form of a gentle knock on his office door.

'Enter,' Harry said with an eager voice, turning towards the opening door that revealed the face of Silvia Selwyn. 'Oh, good day Miss Selwyn. To what do I owe the pleasure?'

' _Er -_ Sorry to bother you, Professor. I just - I wanted to apologize. For - for what happened last time. I'm not sure how -'

'It's quite alright, Miss Selwyn, pay it no mind. As I understand it, you can not remember what happened, correct?' Harry received a timid nod in response. 'Consider it forgiven and forgotten, then! I'd much prefer it if my students have no memories of kissing me at all, as I'm sure you'd understand,' Harry said, smiling at the blushing student.

'Thanks, Professor. I'll just… I'll go now. Thank you!' she left with a quick and awkward curtsy, leaving Harry alone with his essays once more. For a few seconds, at least.

'Professor? Professor are you - oh, good day Professor!' said a jovial Edmonde Elmbrigge as he entered Harry's office without knocking.

'Yes, Mr. Elmbrigge? Looking to find new ways out of homework again, are we?'

'N-no, Professor! I would never do… Well, as a matter of fact, Professor… I have a trial with the Chudley Cannons, and… I was wondering if you could let me -'

'Skip the essay on the Unforgivable Curses?'

'I'll make it up! I'll write double on the next one, I swear!'

'Relax, Edmonde, relax,' using the prodigy Quidditch Chaser first name seemed to surprise him. 'I am not a monster. I will allow you to write half as much on the essay. Provided you indeed write double on the next. And… you will show me exactly how good of a Chaser you really are, next week against Ravenclaw. I expect no less than, shall we say, ten goals?' the young student swelled with pride at Harry's challenge.

'Deal, Professor! I will not disappoint!' he answered, practically bouncing on the walls as he left.

* * *

Eventually, after what must have been the most extensive session of basic Bowtruckle-reading anyone had ever endured, the clock reached dinner time. After changing into a more presentable black robe and a tight-fitting white shirt beneath, complete with a strangling Gryffindor-tie, he flew out of his damned office and classroom, eager to confront his curly-haired best friend to find out exactly what her behavior had been about. The halls and corridors were filled with all kinds of appropriate decorations: floating carved pumpkins, which spewed out fluttering bats as students approached. Candles lighting up the student's ways only to magically extinguish at will, leaving them in total darkness. Walking skeletons terrorized the first years, especially in collusion with the Hogwarts ghosts… By the time Harry reached the Great Hall, which was not far from his classroom, he had witnessed several groups of students of varying ages running scared from the horrors of Halloween, before bursting into nervous laughs.

Harry seated himself at the teacher's table in the empty chair next to Neville. Hermione had yet to arrive, though she could not possibly be planning to skip the feast. Harry was convincing himself of that, at least.

'Hi, Harry!' Neville greeted him. A thick stubble had grown on his old friend's cheeks. It suited him, Harry thought, while wondering if he himself should perhaps try to save for a beard. Neville looked quite handsome, and definitely more adult now.

'Evening, Neville. You seen Hermione yet?'

'No, not yet… Though I did I see her earlier today. She said something about not feeling to well. I suggested that she go to Pomfrey's, she looked quite ill, to be honest…' he explained. And it was a decent explanation to Harry, as it would indeed explain why she had acted so weird earlier. 'It was a long time ago, I expect her to show up today. Why do you ask?'

'Oh, no reason, Neville. I'll just wait. So tell me, how are things going with Hannah Abbott? I heard you guys are pretty serious?' Harry asked, trying to get his mind of something other than his potentially sick friend. Neville's blush was clear through his stubble, as his eyes quickly went around the room while he tried to find words.

' _Er_ \- yeah - yeah we've been dating for a while now, actually. She moved in with me just two weeks ago. Her cousin attends here now, you know. She's in Hufflepuff.'

The evening continued into the dinner as all students and staff gathered in the Great Hall, except one Professor Hermione Granger. Headmistress McGonagall held a short speech addressing the hardworking House Elves, urging the students to be thankful for them and even visit the kitchens once in a while to express their gratitude in person. As Harry was thinking about how proud Hermione would be of her old Professor of Transfiguration, the food appeared at the tables. Still, no sign of Hermione. Harry's foot tapped impatiently as he stared at the large doors of the Great Hall, waiting and hoping for any indication that his best friend would enter, and cursing that he did could not take a peek at the special map inside his robes, just to check up on her.

* * *

Before long, Harry had practically shoved some pieces of food inside of him, barely chewing it as he did so. Neville and Slughorn gave him odd looks, but he paid them no mind as he quickly excused himself to instead pay a short visit to the missing professor. Luckily, her office was on the first floor. As the eyes of most students followed him out of the Great Hall, he was considering the fact that this would be the first time _he_ was in _her_ office, rather than her in his. Wondering how she had decorated the place, he felt his legs work faster under him from curiosity and anticipation. The doors of the Great Hall must still have been swinging as he reached her door, he thought. For some reason he could not explain, he cleared his throat before knocking. No answer. Another two knocks. Still nothing.

'Hermione?' he knocked again. 'Are you there?' he asked. Then he remembered… He pulled out his father's old map, tapping it with his wand and whispering _"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."_ , as he had done countless times in the past. Lines of ink started filling the blank parchment, as dots and labels with names appeared, nearly all concentrated in the Great Hall. Harry was not far off, and Hermione… _in her office?_ Why had she not answered? Harry started banging on the door. When he again received no indication of his friends presence, he was left with no choice. Pointing his wand to the door and casting _Alohomora_ did the trick, as a metallic sound clicked, leaving the door now unlocked.

The fireplace and large mantelpiece were the same as when the office had belonged to McGonagall, though almost everything else had changed. Gone were the tartan plaids and the reliable tin of biscuit, and no personal memorabilia or pictures could be found. Instead, stacks of books and parchments lay everywhere, reminding Harry far too much of his own office before he had the morning's cleanup. He had expected better from Hermione, to be honest, though could not blame her for allowing her room to clutter at such stressful times. Hermione herself was nowhere to be found, though the map promised she would be here. _Ah,_ Harry thought as he saw it. The door to her bedroom was concealed, though the magic around it evident for those who knew her. _Clever_. As she always was. An unlocking charm was not needed this time, as he was gently pressing down the handle to slowly open the door. He wouldn't deny a spell to slow his heart rate, though.

'Hermione?' he whispered into the darkness of her bedroom. 'It's me - Harry. Are you awake?'

'Wha- Harry?' her groggy voice replied. She coughed lightly. 'Harry? Is that you?'

'Yeah, it's me, Hermione. I was just… I thought I would check up on you. I missed you at the feast. Do you mind if I turn on the light?' asked Harry. Hermione made a soft groan of pain as she grunted approvingly. Harry obliged, flicking the candles to life. The sight of her nearly gave him a heart attack - she was sweating profusely, her face red and her hair clinging to the sticky wetness. The thin red sweater she was wearing was drenched, and no wonder… despite the burning hot temperature of her forehead, as a hand on it revealed, she was lying underneath a thick quilt with no open window. Harry's eyes darted around the room, looking for a glass or a jar to fill with water for her to drink. Her chambers were larger than his, as was her bed. Posters and pictures of family and friends adorned the walls, with even a picture of Harry holding little Harry for the first time. The sight of it made Harry's heart skip a beat or two. A window overlooking the Quidditch pitch was above to the left of her headboard, it's sill covered with opened letters and parchments with half-written ones. _A teacup!_ That would do. _'Scourgify. Aguamenti_ ,' Harry cast the two spells to clean and fill the cup with water while pointing at the cup with his wand. Hermione graciously but clumsily accepted it, managing to mumble a " _Thank you_ " in response before taking a sip and coughing.

'Why -' she coughed again. 'Why are you here?'

'I told you, I wanted see you. I didn't know you'd been so ill. You should go to the Hospital Wing! Pomfrey'll fix you up in no time!'

'I wasn't _so_ ill! I was fine, until… Until a few hours ago. I started feeling a bit dizzy, thought I would lay down for a while… What - what time is it?'

'Some time past eight, I imagine. We just had dinner.'

'What?!' she shot up, throwing off her quilt. She was wearing nothing but very tight-fitting and quite small black underwear - her legs bare and shining in the candlelight. As fast as she had stood up, she had now sat down again with her hands holding her head is if it was pounding in pain. Harry was straining hard not to let his eyes wander further down than the end if her thin sweater.

'I'll take you to Pomfrey's, alright?'

'Don't be silly. It's probably just a flu or something. Point your wand to my head and say " _Reparifors_ _",_ and give me the green vial in my third drawer, please,' she asked, and Harry obliged. 'It's… very kind of you to come here, Harry,' she said as she gulped down the smelly green liquid, screwing her face up in the process as if the taste was tenfold that of the smell. 'But you really shouldn't,' she said. _Why not?_ He was wondering, before an image of a stern looking Ron appeared in his mind.

'I'm…' he began, wanting to apologize as the anger in him started to bubble up. Was he not allowed to visit his friend in need? What kind of friendship would that be? 'Well, I'm sorry, but to hell with that! I don't care if someone doesn't want me here. _I_ want me here. I missed you today at dinner. I've missed you for more than a week! Despite whatever happened this morning, I'm still your friend, no matter what happens, actually. If you or Ron or anyone else has a problem with that, then they are more than welcome to tell me in person,' he nearly yelled it all out while staring out Hermione's window, refusing to look at his still bedridden friend.

'I - I missed you to, Harry. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I'm glad you came,' her voice was apologetic, and Harry thought he could see tears welling up as he now turned around to see that his friend had covered her legs with her blanket. 'Please, Harry, sit down?' she patted on an empty part of her bed. Hesitating first for a second, Harry then took off his outer robes to join her by the end of her large bed. It sunk far down as he sat, quite different from his own unyieldingly rigid mattress.

'Hermione, I… I want to know. I need to know,'

'About Ron?' she asked, receiving slow a nod from Harry. 'We've… I don't know, honestly. We're not the same. He's angry, he doesn't listen to me anymore, he _refuses_ to believe me, which I understand as I haven't really been honest with him…'

'So you haven't told him yet? About our…' Hermione shook her head. 'So, when you came over earlier today -'

'What? Was I at your office? When was this?'

'Oh, _er_ , maybe around three? Why, you don't remember that either?' he asked. Was her illness so bad she had walked the castle in a delirious state for hours before deciding to have a lie down? It was strange behavior from her, indeed.

'I… no, actually. I have been quite out of it, today, I guess… Well, no, I haven't told him,'

'Then why has he been so angry?'

'You tell me, Harry… I don't understand any of it. He says he knows something happened that night in the Room of Requirement. Or that something was going to happen or is going to happen, or something like that. He's not making any sense at all. I don't know where he's getting any of it from!' she took another sip from her water. It did sound strange, though judging by the events that had transpired in this very castle these past weeks, strange wasn't even out of the ordinary anymore. If anything, strange was the new norm. Still, it wasn't impossible that some idea or thought had gripped him, causing him to obsess over it - maybe waking him up in cold sweat at night… _Or_ , maybe the answer was far more sinister…

'Do you think it possible that Dec- _Visla_ could be manipulating him, somehow? McGonagall spoke of whispers, and I have seen weird visions in broad daylight,' Harry suggested. Hermione seemed to contemplate this, not answering for a while. The candles flickered and swayed, while the bright full moon outside her window supplied a ray of light that reflected on her still quite wet forehead, cheeks and nose. She was beautiful, illness be damned. Harry felt his hand rise toward her face, longing to caress her, to feel the touch of her skin on his. She jerked her head to face him and opened her mouth as his fingers grazed the threads of hair clinging to her. Before Harry knew it, she was on him. Her hands on his face and in his hair, her blanket tossed aside as their lips and tongues met once again with the passion of two long lost lovers. His hand grasped the back of her thigh, pushing her closer to him before grabbing her buttocks firmly. A moan escaped her mouth. His other hand was on her jaw, with his fingers in heir curly and soft hair. He felt the buttons of his shirt being clumsily undone and his tie being loosened. _The wait was over_. No one would interrupt them this time.

Pushing her onto her back, and catching a blushing smirk on her face as she fell backwards onto her bed, he threw off his shirt to then threw himself on her. Kissing her throat from end to end, finally reaching with his lips behind her ear, causing a stream of hot breath and a pleasureful moan to exit her mouth. Her hips moved rhythmically towards his, pressing herself against him again and again. Her hands struggled with his belt, but not wanting to hurry things along too much, he let her continue her struggle. He would take his time.

Her thin sweater and lack of brassiere revealed that she enjoyed the feeling of his hands traveling the length of her body, or maybe it was the kissing of her ribs and tummy that caused it. Her breasts were supple and soft, and it took all the effort he could muster not to rip open her sweater to taste them all over.

'Harry!' she giggled a whisper as his lips kissed below her bellybutton, nearing the top of her panties. His fingers gave a light squeeze on the tip of her breasts, as she near-wordlessly moaned his name this time, arching her back in pleasure...


	11. Chapter 11, Aftermath in bliss

' _Ravenclaw score again! Senara Thaddeus with her seventh goal of the day puts the tally at 90-10 for the mighty Blues! Elmbrigg_ _'s Gryffindor are in real trouble! If only there weren't scouts from half the teams in Britain and Ireland at this game. No pressure Edmonde! It's not like your future in the sport depends on th- Ouch! I mean, let's see if the boys and girls in red can turn this around!_ '

Quidditch… His eyes were following every single move up in the air with desperate longing. To feel the rush of air as he soared through the stadium, the golden little Snitch occupying every single cell of his brain and fiber of his muscles as he reached out to grab it... The thrill of the speed, the tentative danger, the pulsating adrenaline… He could not help smiling even at the fantastic upset that was Gryffindor being crushed by Ravenclaw. Going into the match, and the season in whole, they were huge favorites - expected to roar their way towards a third Cup in as many years under the captaincy of Edmonde Elmbrigg. Yet here they were, outscored, outplayed, and out of luck.

Hermione next to him did not seem too bothered by the result either; she had never been interested in the sport except perhaps when Ron was playing all those years ago. _"Weasley is our King!"_ was echoing in Harry's head at the nostalgic memory. Not even the reminder of his red-headed friend could dampen his moods on this day, though. He had been coasting through the past two weeks in a constant state of bliss - not least due to his seeing Hermione in secret, a feat easily accomplished under the cover of the invisibility cloak as he sneaked into her chamber after hours. He was grinning stupidly when thinking of their first night together, how she had giggled adorably as she panted after they were done - lying next to Harry with his arm around her. He thought it would feel weird, awkward even between them, but it only felt right. Hermione had kissed him on his cheek before falling asleep on his chest, with her wild hair as one of the aftermaths of their lewd activities, another one being his increasing and maddeningly deep love and lust for her. Despite that first time being one of the best nights of his life, every following nightly visit only served to improve their sexual compatibility and enjoyment. He learned a lot about what she liked, and was surprised at how… _unorthodox_ some things were. An image of his stinging red handprint on Hermione's butt flashed into his mind, forcing him to stiffly shift in his seat.

'Everythin' alright there, Harry?' Hagrid sat beside him, thankfully clueless to the goings-on of Harry's mind. If anyone here practiced Legilimency, he'd be in trouble. Not being able to speak at the moment, Harry settled for a quick nod to appear engrossed in the game being playing before them - which he in truth was before Hermione entered his mind again. 'I bet yeh miss playin', don' yeh?'

'Yeah… Yeah I do, actually. I was pretty decent, wasn't I?' Harry asked, wondering why there'd never been any scouts at his games. Of course, Harry never went to school in his seventh year, perhaps they only scouted those who neared their examination.

'Course yeh were! One of the fines' Seekers I ever seen, in fact. A shame yeh never got the chance ter play for a proper side, if yeh ask me!'

'You did have a talent for getting seriously hurt whenever you flew. I for one am happy to see you at ground level!' Hermione added, and it was true enough. Cursed brooms, bewitched Bludgers, ambushing Dementors… The list was quite extensive.

' _Is that - IT IS! Gryffindor Seeker Dixon zooms past her Ravenclaw counterpart who now trails behind in their pursuit of the Golden Snitch! Can he catch up to her before_ _… DIXON CATCHES THE SNITCH, GRYFFINDOR BLOODY WIN!'_ erupting roars and wild cheers from the Gryffindor end drowned out the commentator's voice, as Harry and Hermione nearly fell over when Hagrid stood up to clap. Harry was feeling more relieved than a sense of joy. He could not bear his side losing to what was supposed to be the weakest of the four teams Hogwarts had to offer. On the pitch, Gryffindor's Elmbrigg seemed to mirror Harry's emotions as he did not partake in his team's celebration. He hadn't played too well, Harry had to admit, and judging by what other's had to say about the Chaser, he had expected more. It was understandable, though. The pressure had gotten to him, simply put. Perhaps a few encouraging words were in order.

Hermione looked somewhat miffed when he bid her and Hagrid goodbye, though she stole a quick kiss when their friendly half-giant looked away before scampering off. Feeling slight regret at leaving her, the steps down to the pitch where slightly heavier than anticipated. To Harry's further surprise, the sad-looking Mr. Elmbrigge was already being consoled by someone. _A Ravenclaw player?_ From the distance, it looked as if… _it was!_ The Ravenclaw Captain Patroclus Dixon had his arm around him, seemingly parting with few comforting words. Harry's curious looks had slowed him down, and just when he was about to speed up again, Edmonde pushed away his comforter in anger, shouting something at the now stunned elder brother of Gryffindor's Seeker and game winner.

'Hey! What's going on here?!' Harry demanded, rushing towards the two rival captains. 'Is Mr. Dixon bothering you, Elmbrigge?'

'I was just -' Patroclus began. He was taller than the Elmbrigge, taller than Harry even, and contrasted his rival's blond hair with his own pitch black.

'He was just leaving,' said Edmonde, casting an angry look his way. 'And he wasn't gloating, if that's what you think, Professor.'

'My apologies, then, Mr. Dixon. Congratulations on a splendid performance. Do keep it up against Slytherin, will you?' he said, smiling to the Ravenclaw Captain who only nodded back before storming off.

'What was all that about, Mr. Elmbrigg? Gryffindor or not, I can not allow you to shove away friendly opponents -'

'It's nothing, Professor. It's just… It's nothing.'

'Nothing? Alright… In any case, I only came here to congratulate you on a… well, a _winning_ performance. That's quite the Seeker you have!' Harry tried, though it didn't seem to do much good judging by Elmbrigg's flaring nostrils and clenched fists.

'Thank you, Professor. Will that be all?'

' _Er -_ yes, I suppose. Good day!'

Feeling more than a bit confused by the whole encounter, both between the two captains and his own with Mr. Elmbrigg, Harry gave up on trying to make sense of any of it as he was making his way back towards his castle. He had detention to supervise with one of the Bodgeberry twins, while the other was forced to serve hers with Neville in the greenhouses. Lexie, Harry's victim for the evening, had reveled in her sister Libby's misery at being handed what appeared to be the harsher of two punishments. It forced him to think of something equally bad, or even worse, than the usual menial garden tasks that detention with Professor Longbottom entailed. He felt quite satisfied with what he came up with.

* * *

'I have to do what?!' the first year Hufflepuff exclaimed after Harry had instructed her.

'Clean the cages above you,' Harry repeated, putting on a serious face.

'But - but there are _things_ in those cages! What am I supposed to do with them?' Lexie asked worriedly as she looked up at the scattered cages hanging from the ceiling. Their floor was transparent glass, though dirt, scratches, and slime from the assortment of magical objects had covered them, rendering them harder to see through.

'I should think you knew, Miss Bodgeberry. Seeing as how you haven't troubled to pay attention in my classes, I assume you are already familiar with each and everyone of these… well, not _that_ dangerous objects. Not dangerous for a brilliant witch such as yourself, at least!'

'N-no I pay attention, Professor! I'm sorry, I'll write lines or something! I'll -'

'Well, if you do indeed _pay attention_ , this shouldn't be a problem at all. We have already covered half of them during our term.'

'But I -'

'You can accept this punishment, _or_ you can write lines every evening up until your O.W.L.s. Understood?'

' _Er -_ of course, Professor. I'll just… Which should I start with?'

'Oh, that won't matter, I expect. I recommend taking the cursed eyeball last, though. It has a certain… _charm_ to it, that one might find distracting. I'll be in my office if you need me, Miss Bodgeberry. Good luck!' Harry advised the horrified student as she stared with fear back at the eye in the cage right above her. None of the objects were too dangerous, of course, and it would be a good opportunity for her to learn defence against the dark arts in a more practical manner - while also teaching her a valuable lesson in school discipline.

Retreating back into his office with a satisfied smirk on his face as he sat down to grade essays on Boggarts, an inexplicable feeling of dread crept up his spine, causing the hair on his neck and arms to stand. A faint whisper wiped the grin off his face as he whipped out his wand, standing up and turning around from his desk. No one was there, yet… the whisper _was_ , and louder than before. Words almost formed as the voice grew clearer. It sounded as if there were more than one person, arguing intensely in hushed tones.

'Who's there?!' Harry demanded, not knowing what to expect if they answered. They did not. ' _Decima_? Is that you? Show yourself!' suddenly they hushed, as Harry was imagining a gathering of ghosts who all stared angrily at him for interrupting them.

' _Decima? That_ _'s a name I haven't heard in a long time, Harry,'_ a hoarse whisper replied. Harry's eyes darted across the room uncontrollably, looking for the source of the voice. ' _I did not expect to talk with you for a long time, my old friend._ '

'I don't care what you expected! What do you want with me?! Face me, you coward!' said Harry, wand still at the ready, yet with no target to aim. The faceless voice merely laughed at his challenge, its crackling sound echoing against the walls of Harry's office.

' _Now that_ _'s more like the Harry I used to know. Always the hero! The Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived. Too important for scum like me,_ '

'You _are_ scum! You attacked Hermione! You attacked Ron! You -'

' _You dare mention the name in my presence? The filthy little Mudblood lo-_ _'_

' _Aparecium!_ _'_ Harry shouted, his blood boiling with anger at the despicable insult directed at Hermione. Though the spell intended to reveal any and every invisible presence in his office had no effect - with the whisper now laughing once again. 'Coward!' yelled Harry.

' _If I only could, Harry, I would enter your pathetic little room, slit your throat with infinite glee, bathe in the hot red blood with the happiest of smiles, and eat your heart for good measure. As I should have done that night we last met. Alas, being the true coward here as you are, you sent me back a thousand years in time again, where I shall wait for my sweet revenge. But I will wait, Harry. I would wait a thousand lifetimes to see your cold white corpse and blue lips. To wipe that disgusting smirk off your face_ _… To see her cry over your grave before I kill her, too. The thought alone fuels my determination and desire, and gives me more joy than you will ever know.'_

Harry was frozen to the spot, hatred and fury overtaking his entire being as his hand was gripping the wand so tightly he could snap it in half with the pure anger that flowed through him as the voice spoke. He would never let Visla touch Hermione. Whoever it was.

' _For shame, Harry. No response? No promise of Hermione's false safety, or lies of how you will stop me? As usual, you disappoint. I'm afraid I cannot linger here, old friend. I have important matters to attend before we meet again. Until next time, Harry Potter._ '

'No!' Harry cried out, knowing it wouldn't be of any use. 'Come back here and face me!' he yelled. Yet the sense of dread, of not being alone in an empty room, was gone. As if he had been transported back to his own office of a few minutes past, with essays, letters, quills, and… Harry's flew into his office door, tackling it open to reach the classroom where a busy Miss Bodgeberry was struggling in a wrestling match with something invisible, trying to shove it into an empty but clean cage beside them.

'Professor! I can't… Help! I can't see it!' she begged. 'It turned invisible!' Breathing a sigh of relief that his student hadn't heard anything from his office, Harry took a few steps to reach her side.

'You _can_ see it, Miss Bodgeberry. Use your wand. Do you recall the Revelio Charm?'

* * *

Determined not to tell Hermione about Visla's whispered threats towards her, he instead put the strange conversation in the back of his mind as he made his way to dinner that same evening, escorting the now exhausted Miss Bodgeberry along the way.  
The Great Hall was filled with lively chatter about the extraordinary game of Quidditch they had all witnessed earlier in the day. Most students seemed to agree that Ravenclaw had impressed, while Elmbrigg's team looked overtrained and underwhelming. Harry could not help but pick up gossips regarding the feud between the two captains, though; several students claimed that the Gryffindor Seeker, who was the younger sister of the Ravenclaw Captain, had saved the future career of Edmonde and had said as much to his face. Others whispered of a secret love affair between the younger Seeker and her captain. There were even those who adamantly asserted that they had in fact seen the Ravenclaw Captain Patroclus Dixon and Mr. Elmbrigg sneak off into the Forbidden Forest, apparently to duel over Briseis Dixon's hand. Though it did not concern Harry in the slightest, he had to admit that his curiosity was piqued.

'Say, Hermione, what do you reckon is going on between Elmbrigg and the Dixons?' Harry turned to his own secret lover, who was sitting between him and Neville. She looked up from her copy of the Daily Prophet to consider the two captains, sitting a table apart.

'I… I think we should respect the student's privacy, Professor!' she turned her attention back to her paper.

'If you ask me, Patroclus is forbidding his sister from seeing Edmonde,' the short and plump muggle-born teacher of Muggle Studies, Olivia Thompson, chimed in. She was sitting on Harry's left and had previously been engulfed in a muggle-newspaper that claimed it had " _Fifteen ways to lose weight without eating less!_ _"_ , which Harry was seriously doubting the truth of. 'I saw the two of them arguing on the pitch after the game, before you stepped in, Harry,' she said, which made Hermione lower the Prophet again. 'And it's not the first time they've had a row. I caught them once arguing right outside an abandoned classroom where I often go to... Well, I gave them detention, in any case.'

'Why would he forbid Briseis from seeing him?' asked Neville, his mouth filled with food. Hermione rolled her eyes and put down her paper.

'I do _not_ think it appropriate that we discuss the love lives of our students!' she said. Harry agreed, silently returning to his plate of food while regretting he brought the matter up in the first place.

Dinner passed uneventfully after Hermione's little lecture. Hermione told Harry of a letter she had received to the Weasley household, inviting the two of them over for a weekend. It would be nice to see the Burrow again, in particular to meet Ginny and her children. Reuniting with Wood could wait, Harry thought. He did not really have ill feelings towards his old captain, though he was supposing that the whole situation demand that he should have, seeing as how Oliver was married to his ex-girlfriend. Then again, Harry was in too good of a place at the moment to have any bitter feelings. Especially as Hermione made no effort to hide holding his hand as they walked out of the Great Hall, apparently being in a bit of an adventurous mood as she looked back at him with a knowing smile. When she and Harry were slowly making their way towards her office, she leaned in to his ear without even checking if there were any students around them - a routine they had previously decided on.

'Room of Requirement. I'll be there soon…' she whispered very close to his ear, her warm breath gently grazing his skin and sending a wave of anticipation rippling throughout his body. '…wearing next to nothing under my robes.'

Harry said nothing when Hermione entered her office, not daring to breathe or even blink as if fearing it would wake him from this dreamlike state. When his senses returned to him, he was running towards the seventh floor - hasting to reach the hidden door before any students could interrupt him.


	12. Chapter 12, Questions for later

It was the 28th of November, and Harry was slowly being dragged from his blissful sleep by the rays of morning winter sun, shining through Hermione's bedroom window. Snow covered every inch of the castle grounds as the end of Harry and Hermione's first term as teachers edged closer. Only two weeks remained - two far too short weeks for Harry's taste. Not much had changed for the Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts lately; his students behaved and their grades improved, even those of the Bodgeberry twins. No signs of either Visla or Decima had disrupted their every day life, and Ron had still not returned to Hogwarts. Harry's secret nighttime activities with his best friend and colleague were thankfully still just that, a secret. Despite their sometimes rather tame efforts at hiding their feelings for each other, such as the time Hermione had kissed him in broad daylight just outside a classroom full of students. Luckily, no one had entered their hallway at that moment. Even more fortunate was that no one else possessed a map such as the Marauder's, as far as Harry thought - if someone did, they would have to find it rather odd that the two professor's labels were so intimately close every night.. Though it was only a matter of time before someone saw something, Harry knew. The question was rather: would they tell anyone before it did? And _how?_ Not many scenarios playing in Harry's head of them trying to come clean with their relationship to the Weasley-family ended well… Not to mention how Ron would react, wherever he was.

In fact, the subject of Ronald Weasley had become something of a regular topic in Harry's mind of late. Where _was_ he? He hadn't heard from him since he last left the castle after Harry had found him unconscious in an abandoned corridor. Three letters from Harry had gone unanswered, even after he sent back the owls to nag his stubborn best friend. Ginny wrote back, at least, though she did not know where he was either - he'd been missing from family dinners and get-togethers for weeks, and when asking about him at the ministry, no one except the Minister himself could answer. And all he could say was that both Ron and Decima were away on separate missions. Everyone seemed to buy it, except Harry. Something told him Ron would not go missing for any period of time on a potentially dangerous mission without at the very least saying something, _anything_ , to his best friend of nearly fifteen years.

 _Fifteen years_ , Harry thought, as the familiar twinge of guilt haunted him yet again. Hermione was still sleeping next to him, wearing nothing underneath the cozy and magically warm blanket. The empty space beside her looked inviting, as did her soft lips and the promise of naked skin if he cuddled in closer to her. He felt neither shame nor regret as he was admiring her beauty - her adorable little snore as she slept peacefully. Her cute ears that tickled her so when Harry gently nibbled on them. Her glowing brown hair now pointing in all directions. And what was hidden beneath the blanket, driving him crazy with lust at nights… No, Harry did not regret anything. Even if it meant that Hermione and him would continue their relationship in secret for a hundred years, he would do it. For her. Nothing and no one had ever made him as happy as she did. And he had a rather strong feeling that she felt the same.

'Hey, lovely,' Harry said, smiling at the sight of Hermione lazily waking up. Her face had a routine when doing so: it consisted of blinking hard once or twice, before doing so faster and faster until she was fully awake, by which time she stretched out her arms straight out - a quite convenient act has Harry could then sneak into her bosom and kiss her all over, which never failed to draw a giggle from her.

'Mercy!' she laughed as Harry's lips were reaching everywhere from her cheeks and jaw to her throat and breasts.

'Alright, no more kisses!' said Harry. 'Okay, one last, but that's it!' he promised, smothering her grinning lips.

'It's not fair, you know! It's so easy for you to get me going!'

'I wouldn't know what you're talking about,' Harry smirked, his fingers traveling the length of her body back and forth as the two of them were lying on their sides, staring into each other's eyes.

'Don't play coy with me, Potter! You know what powers you have over me. I have to make a huge effort just to catch your attention!'

'Lies!' Harry launched his face into her throat. With one hand around her hip - fingers digging into her cushy butt, he was turning her naked body onto himself, ending up below her. His other hand searched its way into her messy hair as the girl of his dreams laughed uncontrollably at the unexpected attack. _That laugh_ … He would never tire of it. He would do anything to hear it. With a smooth and swift motion, Harry turned them both around on the bed, positioning himself above her. 'The only reason you don't know what you do to me is that I'm better at hiding it.'

'Harry!' she giggled as his hands reached her breasts yet again, and his lips her nipples. A soft moan escaped her lips when he gently grazed the tip with his tongue. Unlike Hermione though, Harry had managed to dress in pants before falling asleep. Something she currently seemed quite annoyed with as her writhing body and hips desperately swayed and pressed against the bulge inside them. Harry found his mind wondering if the two of them had always secretly been wanting this, before shaking off the stupid notion as Hermione stealthily slid off his pants.

'Why, Professor Granger!This is _"highly unprofessional"_! Harry complained, echoing Hermione's words from months before. Back when she had been scolding him just for kissing his colleague. And now here she was. _Hypocrite_ , he thought, still smiling.

'Oh, shut up, _Professor_! At least I don't go around snogging students,'

'Is that jealousy I hear? Hmm… Maybe you were right, Hermione. After all, the age difference isn't _too_ bad… Perhaps I _should_ ask Miss Selwyn on a date! _Ouch!_ ' still grinning, he rubbed the shoulder which Hermione playfully punched, though a bit annoyed that his teasing had stopped her from removing his pants altogether.

'I'm _not_ jealous! You're fully entitled to date whomever you want!' she claimed, though Harry wasn't buying it. 'As long as that person is named _Hermione Granger_ , that is,' she added, before launching into an unexpected attack of her own; quickly finishing taking of his pants to her apparent delight as her lips lightly kissed him all over and around his now uncovered parts. A tingling sensation from her every touch jolted through his body - all of his being focused on the woman above him, and her effect on him. _If she only knew_ , he thought.

* * *

The two lovebirds spent all morning locked in Hermione's chamber before emerging from their bubble - harshly reminded that they were supposed to attend a Weasley-dinner later that same day by a nasty alarm clock which Hermione needed no magic to smash into a thousand pieces. The idea of visiting the Weasleys after having slept with the wife of one was… somewhat disturbing to Harry. Though he was trying to suppress his rising guilt, the mere thought of Hermione walking around in their house, Harry's seed still deep in her… It was as sinister as it was arousing. Perhaps it was better if the two of them took a short break before using the Floo Network to reach the Burrow. Hermione seemed a bit sad at his decision, which of course was understandable, he too would have preferred spending more time with her. Yet, he did have matters that he could distract himself with, such as the seventh year Quidditch Captain Edmonde Elmbrigg and his mysterious row with Patroclus Dixon of Ravenclaw. Or maybe check up on the hardworking third years of Ravenclaw and Slytherin, who struggled learning every spell and counter-curse in preparation for their end-of-term exam, which they all needed to pass in order for Harry to fulfill his Patronus-teaching promise of weeks ago.

In the end, Harry's loyalty decided for him as he dressed in his Gryffindor scarf and thick wool-shirt to reach Hagrid's hut.

'Hagrid!' he called out, knocking on his old friend's door. 'Are you in? Thought I'd stop by for a -' the door flew open, sending Harry flying backwards to luckily land on the soft yet cold and wet snow. 'HAGRID!' he yelled, brushing off the snow while still furious with what the half-giant had seemed to do.

'Wha'? Mad at _me_ , are yeh?' his bearded face peeked out from the doorway. 'You're lucky I'm no' Ron, yeh stupid little boy. Wha' were you _thinkin_ _',_ Harry?! Both of yeh?!' said Hagrid, as the reason for his sudden outburst was dawning on Harry. He wasn't sure if he was welcome inside as the giant still blocked the entrance, angry red cheeks and… an almost heartbroken look on his large face Yet, he stood aside as if to invite Harry in, most likely expecting an explanation for his and Hermione's behavior. _How had he found out_?

'I'm… I don't know, Hagrid. Honestly… It sort of just - happened. We weren't really planning on it,' Harry tried explaining as he removed his snowy scarf and robes.

' _Just happened_ , eh?' he repeated, shoving a cup of tea into Harry's hands so violently half of it spilled on him and the floor. 'And Ron? I suppose neither of yeh though' of him as yeh sneaked 'round the castle at nigh'? Does he know?'

'No! I mean, we _did - I_ did, at least. I can't speak for Hermione, Hagrid, but there's a reason we haven't exactly been open about this. We aren't really sure how to tell people and -'

'Blimey, Harry! I saw the two of yeh just the other day by the Owlery! If I can spot summat's off, so can the bloody students!'

'I know, it's not that easy -'

'I expected _you_ ter be tha' stupid, but no' Hermione!'

'Hey!' Harry objected. 'That's not really fair, Hagrid -'

'I don' care if it's _fair_ , I care 'bout Ron!' Hagrid yelled, his deep voice shaking the foundations of his little hut. Harry had never seen Hagrid so mad at him, or ever, in fact… Not in many years, at least. 'Maybe the two of yeh should, too!'

'We do! But… what are we supposed to do, Hagrid? What would _you_ do? Would you tell him? How do you think he'd react? Let alone the rest of the Weasleys? Don't think for a second that this hasn't been haunting me ever since me and Hermione -'

'I wouldn't have _touched_ Hermione 'fore you ask Ron!'

'It's not Ron's place to decide what Hermione does!'

'And it's no' _your_ place ter betray friends, Harry! I though' better of yeh, I did. Reckon I was wrong! Reckon she's just as bad, too!' Hagrid's words cut deep. It wasn't often that Harry felt something well up in his eyes, yet there he stood - struggling to hold back tears at the harsh truth of his actions. He knew he had betrayed Ron. He had known ever since his and Hermione's first kiss after the attack… But he never regretted it. Perhaps it was the lack of regret, the lack of self-control, of _loyalty,_ that hurt the most at the moment. Maybe even more than the fact that one of his oldest and dearest friends now regarded him with such contempt. He looked more likely to toss Harry out by the scruff of his neck than to ever welcome him back in. And Harry knew he would deserve it. Yet still… he did not regret anything. He _could_ not regret anything. He loved Hermione, and he always would.

'I _am_ sorry, Hagrid… sorry it happened this way. Sorry to hurt him - to betray our friendship. I'm sorry for everything,' Harry pleaded, one or two tears slowly dripping down his cold cheeks. 'I just… I love her. She's… this is not _her_ fault, it's mine. However Ron finds out, I will pay for it, not her. And it'll be deserved, whatever he decides to do.'

'Harry,' Hagrid's voice was calmer now, his eyes welling up as well as he regarded the man half his size in front of him. A sense of vulnerability washed over Harry as the giant leaned over him, not knowing what he was going to do. Suddenly, the large arms enveloped him into a tight hug, as all his worries melted away in his friend's fathom. 'I don'… I _do_ understan', Harry. Hermione is… she's a lovely girl. A woman now. Yeh'd be a fool no' ter notice tha' at some point. I just hoped… well, I hoped the three of yeh would always be together. I can' see tha' now. What yeh did was wrong, but love - it has a way, don' it?' Hagrid smiled at him.

'I suppose it does… Don't tell her this, but she has a way with me that no one else has ever had. I'd do anything for her. The thought of being without her now is… It's unbearable,' said Harry. Hagrid chuckled before wiping away the moistness of his beard-covered cheeks.

'Don' think I'm no' still mad, Harry. _I am_! At her too! Bu', well - I _do_ still love yeh, yeh little brat,' he answered, ruffling Harry's hair with his giant hands.

* * *

Winter had still not found The Burrow it seemed, as Harry and Hermione stepped in-to and out-of fireplaces and arriving at a snow-free landscape littered with yellow grass and red leaves. The Weasleys were delighted to greet them with hugs, kisses, and handshakes as nearly everyone was present a part from Ron and Charlie. Bill and Fleur with children, and even Percy and his wife Audrey, who Harry hadn't met before, and who (to no ones surprise) nearly choked on her tea when she saw the " _Boy-Who-Lived_ _"_.

Ginny gave the two Hogwarts professors warm hugs before shoving her two twins into their respective namesakes' arms - which was now the state that they found themselves in, sitting around the kitchen table chatting about anything and everything. Little Harry fell asleep the instant he had touched Harry's arms, much to the apparent displeasure of Ginny.

'I had _hoped_ he would make a bit of noise to annoy you, but no! Apparently he saves it all for the nights, the little traitor!' she complained, giving Harry a tired look and smile. It couldn't be easy catching sleep with four little kids running around.

'He could never annoy me, Ginny,' Harry answered, looking back down at the peacefully sleeping child in is arms. A brief thought of an imagined child that was his and Hermione's flashed by his mind as he observed little Harry's gentle snores and his tiny little nose surrounded by the faintest of freckles.

'Big Harry!' yelled Ginny's Fred as he came running into the kitchen. 'Big Hermione!' he hugged their legs under the table, causing sweet laughs to echo around the dinner table.

'He thinks he should call you two _"big"_ because we call the twins _"little"_ ,' explained Wood before pulling up his oldest son above the table. 'Don't you, you clever little rascal?'

'Speaking of, where in the world is "Big Ron"?' asked Percy, who Harry quite unexpectedly had found out named his son after his youngest brother, despite the two not being at all close when growing up. Harry and Hermione shared quick and worried looks as the rest of the Weasley family jumped into speculation regarding the new Head of the Auror Department.

* * *

Come nightfall, when the stars finally took it upon themselves to visit and the cold winds forced the few remaining Weasleys and company to huddle around the fireplace, Harry excused himself to step outside for a short moment. His missing friend had been on his mind ever since Hagrid's lecture earlier in the day and, for some reason he could not explain, perhaps fleeting solace could be found when he was now staring at the bright-dotted night sky.

'Blimey, Harry! Aren't you cold?!' Ginny's voice came up from behind him.

'A bit,' Harry admitted. A warm sensation suddenly spread over him like a blanket. A quick look at the approaching Ginny revealed she had done some sort of magic, as she tucked away her wand before sitting down beside him.

'What are you doing out here, then? We still have dessert, you know. I know you'll love my homemade carrot cake! If by homemade you mean store bought, and by _love_ you mean _barely stomach_. In fact, don't eat the carrot cake at all. It's pretty horrible,' she said, chuckling together with Harry.

'Tempting offer, I must admit,'

'Then come back inside!'

'I, _er -_ I just… probably should start heading back to Hogwarts soon anyway. I just needed some fresh air.' Harry lied. Ginny's suspicious eyes did not leave his, even though Harry was avoiding her stare at all costs.

'Right. So, if I told you Ron was here -'

'WHAT?!' Harry shot up, readying to back further away from the Burrow in an instant.

'Relax!' Ginny laughed. 'He's not here. Sit down, young man,'

'Why'd you do that?' he demanded as he was making to sit down next to her again. 'Evil little git!'

'I just wanted to confirm something,' she smiled at him.

'And?' Harry asked, suspecting he knew where she was going. His pulse increased, the cold winds seemingly vanished as it all of a sudden became quite hot under his sweater.

'How long? You and Hermione?'

'Oh,' was all he could muster as Ginny regarded him closely. ' _Er -_ we're not…'

'Don't insult me, Harry! The others might not see it yet, but they will. You aren't exactly good at bottling up emotions, you two. Plus, I can practically smell her scent on you,' she added, causing a warm blush to appear on Harry's cheeks that he was sure wasn't due to the near freezing temperature.

'Sorry, Gin - but we aren't really… _open_ about it, yet,' he said, finally meeting her gaze.

'And? How long?' she stubbornly pressed on now crossing her arms, reminding him far too much of Hermione.

'I don't… a month?'

'A MONTH?!' she yelled, Harry desperately started casting a silencing spell around them though was sure it was too late. All of the Burrow must have heard that, let alone the whole country. 'Sorry, I just… I figured it might have been a one time thing or - _a month_ , Harry?!' he did not respond, instead struggling to ignore the bubbling stress-pains in his stomach. Was she going to scream at him as Hagrid did? Was this how he'd lose every friend he ever had, one by one? 'Are you two - you know, serious? About each other, I mean?'

'I think so… I mean, I _love_ her.'

'And Ron..?'

'Doesn't know, thankfully.'

'Thankfully?!' Ginny frowned indignantly, an angry look across her face for the first time now. 'He's still _my brother_ , Harry! You can't just… just do this to him, expect to hide it from him for months! He'll be devastated!'

'We aren't doing it _to him_ , Ginny! We're -'

'It doesn't matter. It's happened already, you can't change that now. Unless you have a Time-Turner lying around somewhere,' she laughed. Harry wasn't sure if he _should_ laugh, or indeed be afraid of the fierce Weasley woman's sudden mood change. At the moment, all he felt himself wanting to do was to hug her for not being _too_ angry at him. He deserved worse, he knew.

'Hagrid knows,' said Harry. Ginny looked at him unblinking and open-mouthed. 'He yelled like a mad man when he confronted me, you know. It was quite frightening! His whole hut shook and I was just standing there, taking it all in. As if I had a choice!' Ginny laughed as Harry recounted the story, and kept laughing as the night continued with more stories of his time at Hogwarts, and her time with her children. Unlike Hermione, Ginny _did_ find it odd, interesting, and worthy of speculation that the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor captains had such an enigmatic relationship. She suggested that _they_ in fact were the lovers, not Elmbrigg and Dixon's younger sister. It wasn't impossible, Harry accepted, though he did not understand why they would need to hide it if that in fact were the case. Ginny merely sighed and then chuckled at his apparent ignorance.

They sat there in the cold, Harry being magically heated up both by Ginny's magic and her mere presence, for what must have been hours when the sun's sudden appearance at the horizon's edge finally urged them back inside. Ginny collapsed on the couch by the fireplace, while Harry… Harry found himself sitting fully awake on the edge of Hermione's bed, examining her beauty with as much reverence as he had done that very same morning.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

 **Bottle-episode! I'd love more feedback/reviews, please! Not really sure how I'm doing, since it's my first fanfic. Shout-out to genndec for the kind words of encouragement!**


	13. Chapter 13, Of a soul

'Harry,' Hermione said, waking him up from the mind-numbing boredom that was reading books in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library. Harry had been dragged there much against his own will one day when Hermione apparently felt they were doing far too little in getting to the bottom of the whole " _Visla_ - _issue_ _"_ , as she had put it. Having more or less dropped entire months worth of reading on his lap, she then had the gall to ask him to finish the stack in one weekend - which was what they were now doing. As his head snapped up in response to Hermione's sudden call for his attention, Harry's mind was drifting, thinking of better ways to spend his last weekend before the Christmas holidays. Such as Hermione's chamber. Or the Room of Requirement with her. Or, truth be told, literally any place _except_ the library. Yet here he was. It was what she enjoyed, he knew. And, _damn it_ , if she enjoyed it, then he would participate in it.

'Yes, love?' Harry replied, smiling at her half-heartedly.

'Do you believe in souls?' she asked, as bluntly as one would ask for the weather. It was an odd question - they both knew souls existed. Voldemort even had a part of his soul latch on to Harry… 'I mean, we obviously know something like souls exists,' she admitted; 'but… Well, you went to Muggle school too, right?'

'Yes… where are you getting at?'

'It's just - most Muggles believe in the " _sanctity of the soul_ _"_ and all, and here in the book _Accidents of the Holy Agony_ , the wizard author claims that… perhaps you should read it for yourself,' she handed the book to Harry and pointed at the paragraph she wanted him to read.

"… _wizards & witches who is't in any way shapeth 'r f'rm partak'th in the abominable and repulsive act of transf'rming ones soul, art doom'd by th're on actions bef're those folc ponder to commit them - such is the punishment f'r violating the founding principles fr'm life and death…"_

' _Er -_ could you translate that for me, please?' Harry politely asked, grinning to the quite worried-looking Hermione. Not knowing at all why she seemed to worry, after all, they already knew Voldemort had been cursed for his use of Horcruxes, his mind instead wandered to Visla, and what had been said during their conversation in Harry's office. He had not shared the story of the strange encounter with Hermione yet, he supposed he hadn't learned anything new, until now… Visla was at least a thousand years old, Harry was remembering that faceless whisper claim. Was it possible? Could Visla have made a Horcrux? To live that long, surely…

'It means,' Hermione took the book back from him. 'That, according to this, people who knowingly or unknowingly alter their soul are damned even before the _actual act itself_. As if it was always written in the stars that they would commit their crime… It would - I think it could explain a lot, actually… I mean, we know next to nothing about souls! How they work, when they're made, if they multiply, what exactly happens when the Dementor's kiss -'

'Wait… _Multiply?_ '

'McGonagall said that there are many Vislas, didn't she? That they appear at different times, but can even appear all at once in some cases?' Hermione asked, though Harry had the impression that the question wasn't really meant to be answered. 'So, how does Visla's soul exist in several locations at once? How did mine, or yours, when we traveled in time?' Harry was feeling beyond confused.

'I… _er_ \- what?'

'Think about it! How can souls be real in the sense that we learn in Muggle schools if they behave and can be altered in the ways the magical world knows about?'

'I suppose… they aren't?'

'They _can_ _'t_ be! There must be something more to souls, something we're missing…'

'Such as?' Harry asked, still feeling quite lost in Hermione's steaming train of thought.

' _Time-Turners_!' she blurted out, which to Harry at least, was seemingly completely unrelated to her previous statements. 'We've been looking in the wrong place!'

'Of course we have,' Harry answered, though Hermione did not seem to hear him as she darted out of her chair to find books from other shelves than the ones she had previously ransacked.

'What do we know about time travel? It's dangerous, but we can't _really_ change anything that has already happened. What we do in the past when we travel back has always been, which is _how and why_ events can be written in the stars at all. It makes sense!'

'It does?'

'So Visla… Visla tried to go back in time, using a broken or poorly mended Time-Turner, to change events that had already happened… So he or she could not have known that you can't change the past… And the faulty Time-Turner sent Visla into several places at once, breaking apart the soul!'

'Like a Horcrux?'

'Exactly, Harry! I'm impressed that you're following!' her eyes regarded him with an almost condescendingly surprised feel to them. Which was quite merited, he thought, as he wasn't really sure he indeed _had_ been following.

'So, Visla's accidentally created… a bunch of Horcruxes. And we have to find, them, and destroy them, before we kill Visla?'

'Visla isn't Voldemort, Harry, and hasn't imbued items with parts of the soul for us to destroy. I think… our next step should be to find out who Visla is. That way, we can perhaps -'

'But we already _know_ who it is! Why would she otherwise disappear for months, _just_ when we're onto her?'

'Well… I don't know. It would make some sense, I admit. But we can't know for certain yet. If we can determine who it is without a shadow of a doubt, _then_ we can act on it and -'

'We might not have time to -'

'Don't interrupt me, Harry!' Hermione shot him an angry look, one Harry had been on the end of many times before. She could be intimidating when she wanted to… Nodding for her to continue, Hermione then turned back to her friendlier tone. 'Thank you. As I was saying, _if_ we determine who it is, _then_ we can devote our efforts to catching that person. I don't think we should waste time hunting the wrong person, do you?' she had a point. She always did.

'Can't we just… stop whoever it is from traveling in time before it happens?'

'Haven't you been listening?! We _can_ _'t_ change what has already happened. Otherwise, Visla would have just gone and killed you when you were an infant, and…'

'Someone else already tried that, I think…'

' _And_ , the simple rule is: if something has happened, it was always _meant_ to happen, and nothing can stop it _from_ happening.'

'Simple, Hermione? My head hurts just from trying to figure this out! How do you fit all this in your head without exploding, honestly?' Harry joked, smiling at who he was sure had to be the cleverest witch to ever exist.

'Thank you, love' she smiled back, triggering a jitter of butterflies in Harry's stomach. 'My working theory is that Visla can't leave the castle grounds. Or, at least, not travel freely, wherever he or she is… Here, you read this,' she dropped a dusty old book on Harry's lap: _In Time to read On Time - A study of, yes, Time_. Harry chuckled at the title, before being horrified by the tiny lettering and the hundreds of pages. He'd probably _need_ a Time-Turner to finish that in a weekend.

'Wait… if Visla can't travel outside the grounds, then why can't we just wait for her to appear? It's bound to happen, right?'

'Yes… But what if it happens when you sleep? Or in class with students? Or if we're separated, and Visla attacks us one at a time?'

'I guess we'll have to always be together, then. _For safety_ , of course,' said Harry only half-jokingly, as Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

'Another thing, Harry… Would you happen to know why third year students have been approaching me about the Patronus Charm?'

* * *

Nervous chatter filled Harry's corridor on the first floor as half of his third years lined up outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, preparing to enter two at a time to show off their hard work during the last few weeks. The first pair, Slytherin Priscilla Parsons and Ravenclaw Rashad Sterling, had passed with flying colors and performed every single curse and counter-curse with surprising ease. Yet, they had also surprised their professor with the alarming news that the nervous chatter outside his door wasn't _all_ due to the prospect of learning the Patronus Charm. Apparently, the pressure to perform had reached breaking point for some of the students, as every single one of them needed to pass his impromptu exam. Harry had said nothing when presented with the news - instead thinking hard on a solution. Once the second pair had exited, they too without a single hitch in their presentation, a little bird made up of magically folded paper flew out the classroom behind them, carrying a message for the class. After a few seconds, a jubilant eruption echoed throughout the school - piercing through the door to reach Harry. It did not take long before the class ran into his room, bursting through the doorway like a river through a collapsing dam.

'Is it true, Professor?'

'Do we all get a pass?'

'I've worked so hard, Sir! I'll show what I can do anyway!' promised Ravenclaw Aurinda Dinsmore. Harry let them get all their questions and comments out before addressing his class as a whole, smiling and waiting for them to settle down. Eventually, they did, and Harry stood up to a silent and attentive crowd.

'I have decided,' he began, pausing for a mere second. '… to teach the Patronus Charm regardless of how you all perform in your evaluations.' Harry's flat hand palm stopped the class from a premature celebration as they had all readied to jump out of their chairs. 'I _still_ require all of you to participate in the evaluations with your assigned partners. And I _still_ demand _as_ hard work with every one of your school subjects, including mine beyond our Patronus-lessons, or I will cease the extra curriculum without question.'

Those news did nothing to dampen the mood of the children as they gladly accepted Harry's conditions. The entire class hurried back into the hallway, this time filling the corridors with speculations on what their Patronuses would be as they lined up by the door. Harry was staring out over the school grounds from his window, waiting for the fifth or sixth pair to enter, when something… transparent, and brightly shining was flying around not far away. _Could it be_? _No_ … His third years couldn't have mastered the Patronus already. Yet, it had to belong to someone. Who else would be producing a fully corporeal guardian at that very moment? To the disappointed sighs of his class, Harry excused himself to rush towards the spot of the unknown witch or wizard out on the grounds, promising to be back as soon as he could. The closer he got, the more obvious it was that the flying Patronus was an eagle, and that its creator was the seventh year far below it: Gryffindor Quidditch prodigy Edmonde Elmbrigg. Standing alone, a long way from any other student, his wand pointed to the sky along with all of his concentrated effort, as he paid no notice to Harry advancing on him.

'That is _stunning_ , Mr. Elmbrigg. Absolutely stunning!' Harry's words broke the focus of the boy, yet the eagle soared above them all the same. Edmonde startled at the unexpected compliment from his professor. 'Though I expected yours to be a proud and roaring lion, I must admit! Where did you learn that?'

'Oh, hello, Professor. Thanks, I - I heard you could do it when you were thirteen. And I heard Professor Granger mention that Patronuses can actually change to reflect our inner feelings, or something like that. I guess… mirror the person we love… I think,' he clumsily explained.

'That is… essentially correct, I believe.'

'And, well - she showed me. I thought something was wrong with mine. I used to have a lion, actually. And then it hasn't been, ever since… Well, Professor Granger told me that she used to produce an otter, whereas now it's a doe. At least, I think it was…' A _doe_? Certain that Edmonde must've seen wrong and trying to decipher what it could have been, Harry was barely listening to the rest of Edmonde's story. '… won't even talk to me, so I thought I could produce the eagle to prove how I feel. To start on an apology, in a way. Does that make sense to you, Professor?'

' _Er_ \- yes. Yes of course. Carry on, Mr. Elmbrigg. As you were,' Harry said as he was turning around to hurry back to his waiting class.

'I take that as your permission, then, Professor!' Elmbrigg yelled after him, though Harry's mind was already wandering away from their short conversation back to Hermione and the mystery of her Patronus.

* * *

Footsteps echoed in the halls as Harry was walking towards his class on the first floor. They hadn't been out of place, even though they made Harry jump a bit as he stared in their direction to see an empty hallway with no apparent reason to generate any kind of footstep-like noise. A fleeting thought of Peeves or a Hogwarts ghost made its way into his mind, and then a whisper. _Visla_. From the same empty hallway. The one Harry was now slowly stepping into with curious yet careful steps. Only… the whisper hadn't come from the same place as the still echoing footsteps. It was a voice. _The_ voice. Inside his head. And it was fainter than a gentle breeze next to the hurricane that was Harry's thoughts as the prospect of the voice's return loomed. _Hello, Harry,_ it said, suddenly as clear as if the person it belonged to stood next to him. Harry was trying to suppress it as he stood still in the abandoned corridor, horror gripping him frozen. _You can not silence your own thoughts, Harry,_ it laughed an empty laugh. It wasn't Visla's voice - it was his own, as if it _was_ indeed his own thoughts haunting him. _I am part of you, and always will be_. _Well, until I kill you, that is._

'Shut up!' Harry yelled. _No_ , it immediately answered, as if it knew what Harry was going to say before he said it. _I enjoy your agony. It is_ _… music to my ears. I dance to it. I breathe it._

'Then face me! Tell me who you are!' he demanded out loud, only to be met by more laughter inside his head. _I will, soon. Until then, why should I sever this connection between us, Harry? You_ _'d miss me too much, I fear… And I haven't even begun with your dear mudblood -_

'I'll _kill_ you if you touch her!' Harry promised into the empty hallway. Yet, a blink and suddenly… people. Everywhere. His empty hallway had become crowded with students of all ages now staring at him in frozen shock and horror - as if they had heard their professor having a shouting match against a non-existing opponent. None dared speak as the Boy-Who-Lived stood there, flustered and furious, his wand pointing threateningly towards a frightened Hufflepuff boy. It took seconds for Harry's composure to return, realizing he had once again been subject to an anomaly of time courtesy of Visla, as he was lowering his wand to the apparent relief of the scared bystanders.

'Harry!' a woman behind him cried out. Expecting to see the confused face of Hermione, he instead turned around to see a woman looking very much like him. Black hair, slim build, and bright green eyes that were staring back at him with terrified bewilderment.

'Decima?! What are you - Did you do this?!' his wand flew up aiming straight at her heart. as she recoiled at Harry's accusation and aggression towards her.

' _Professor Potter_! Lower your wand _immediately_!' a second woman, Headmistress McGonagall, came up behind him with determined steps.

'Minerva, it's _her!_ It's -'

'What's going on, Minerva?' asked Decima.

'Say _nothing_ more, Potter. Lower your wand. _Now,_ '

'I will _not_!' escaped Harry's mouth, carrying more anger than he expected as his eyes refused to let Decima escape their suspicious stare. 'She threatened to kill -'

' _Expelliarmus!_ _'_ a flick of McGonagall's wand forced Harry's grip to loosen as he was left unarmed against the two witches in apparent collusion. It didn't make sense. It wasn't… logical. But, why else would McGonagall be _helping_ Decima, unless they were in on it together? 'My office, Potter. NOW!' Harry did not move, stubbornly resolute in his convictions as always. It _had_ to be Decima. _Who else?_ 'Don't make me hex you!'

'Harry… what's happening? Why are you -' Decima began, a sad frown on her face as she faked trying to make sense of the situation, Harry thought. He was not buying it.

'Don't! I know who you are, what you've done!' he responded, his fist clenching in anger as the absence of his wand made itself known.

' _What I_ _'ve done_? I haven't _done_ anything! I -'

'Shut up!' he yelled at her for the second time in a short while. 'We'll found out soon enough. And when I prove that you're lying, I won't put you away. Azkaban is too kind for -' Harry's tongue stopped obeying him as he nearly uttered a word worse than he had ever said before. In fact, his whole body stopped obeying him. He couldn't move his eyes, his arms, his legs… But the gasps of horror around him as his Headmistress walked up to his rigid body were impossible not to hear.

'Students, you will resume with your normal schedule. Me and our guest, Auror Cely, will escort Professor Potter to my office. If you have any questions or concerns regarding your Defence Against the Dark Arts classes, feel free to wait outside my office until such a time when I can admit you. Until further notice, they have been postponed. A statement will be issued tomorrow in the Great Hall.' McGonagall then shot Harry an angry look before storming off towards her office, with Decima and a levitating, and perhaps _former,_ Professor following her closely behind.


	14. Chapter 14, One false truth

Hushed voices followed Harry as he floated all the way into McGonagall's office. Word of his strange and aggressive behavior had not yet fully spread, resulting in speculations and gossips from each and every student they passed before reaching the guardian gargoyle. Harry was gently lowered on the wooden floor and left staring at the tall ceiling with no choice in the matter. He could not talk. He couldn't even blink. Only the voices of the two apparently close friends could be heard as he was unblinkingly lying flat on his back, waiting for his moment.

'Do you mind explaining what just happened? Why was Harry harassing students? Why was he so… _angry_ with me?'

'You may want to sit down for this… Before I can tell you, I have to ask you a few questions.'

'I'm sorry, what? What kinds of questions?'

'I must implore you to answer them truthfully, though you should know that I suspect you of nothing.'

'I… Alright, Minerva. Ask away.'

'Firstly, where have you been the last few months?'

'I can not answer that. Auror business.'

'Can someone corroborate this?'

'Only the Minister. And perhaps Weasley as well, though he seems to be missing.'

'Ronald Weasley, you mean?'

'Correct.'

'Have you any knowledge of his current whereabouts?'

'No - well, I know he traveled to the far east about the same time as I left… But no, I don't know where he is at the moment.'

'Alright. I believe her. What about you, Potter?' McGonagall finally invited Harry to join the rather tame interrogation. An intense feeling of warmth emerged in his core, spreading outward to his extremities before reaching every nerve ending until he slowly regained control of his frozen body. Heaving himself up, he saw the two of them sitting face to face, staring at the still dizzy Harry as he was struggling to find his balance. Decima frowned worriedly as she observed him, though Harry could not find it in himself to pity her.

'Veritaserum!' Harry yelled as soon as his mouth allowed him. 'Make her dri-'

'Out of the question, Potter!' McGonagall replied stubbornly.

'I'll do it, Minerva.' Decima replied. 'If it's the only way to shut him up,' she insisted. The Headmistress stared at Harry with nothing short of contempt, yet Harry wasn't in the slightest concerned by her mood. Catching Decima, catching _Visla_ , superseded feelings. 'Though Harry _should_ know, that this means the end of us.'

' _Us_?' repeated Harry. 'There is no _us_. And I wish there never was. You two-faced -'

'Enough!' McGonagall stood up. 'She has agreed to your outrageous demands, Potter, so you will agree to mine: one more word out of your insolent mouth and your days at Hogwarts are over. You will be silent until I give explicit permission. You may _nod_ if you understand,' McGonagall said. Harry wasn't sure if this had been more or less humiliating than his forced transportation to the office, but this was bigger than him. This was about Hermione's safety. About Visla, and stopping Decima. Reluctantly nodding his submission to McGonagall, the stern Headmistress then turned around to grab a small and transparent flask before returning to the Auror sitting next to Harry - refusing to meet his gaze.

'I… I suppose that's the serum, then?' Decima asked, giving a bit of a nervous impression. _Good_ , thought Harry. McGonagall nodded to her.

'I will not force you to ingest this. It is of your own volition, and I _only_ allow it to, as you say, _shut him up_ ,' she shot Harry another resentful look before handing over the Veritaserum to Decima. 'A single drop should do.'

The black-haired young woman examined the flask closely with her bright green eyes, turning it around in her hand as if it would reveal intimate secrets if scrutinized intently. She then opened it, leaned it slightly while holding it high over her mouth in order for the single drop meant reach her tongue could be easily observed by the Headmistress and the Professor. A few seconds passed in utter silence before Decima swallowed, forcing down the solution that equally forced the truth out of her.

'So. Is your name Decima Aphrodite Cely?' asked McGonagall.

'Yes.'

'Are you currently acting out of your own free will?'

'No. I am acting under the will of Veritaserum.'

'Name the man beside you,' McGonagall ordered, throwing a quick look in Harry's direction.

'Harry James Potter.'

'Who is he to you?'

'Nothing,' Decima answered bluntly. McGonagall's brows raised in surprise and almost disbelief, mirroring Harry's thoughts.

'Then, who _was_ he to you?'

'Friend. Colleague. Lover.'

'And… now, you hate this man?'

'No. I feel nothing regarding Harry James Potter,' she repeated bluntly.

'Has he ever angered you?'

'No.'

'Disappointed you?'

'Yes.'

'To the point of… wanting revenge?' Harry regarded the Auror closely, not believing what he was hearing. This did not sound like a person who would turn into Visla…

'No,' she answered, as Harry's heart dropped into his stomach.

'Do you know a person named Valdr Visla, or any variation or approximation of the name?'

'No.'

'Two more questions, then. What do you know of Harry James Potter's current relationship with Hermione Jean Granger?' Harry twitched at the question, staring at McGonagall who refused to look his way.

'They share a platonic friendship. She is married to his best friend Ronald Bilius Weasley.'

'And if I told you they are romantically involved, how would you react?' He must have heard her wrong. It was true, he admitted. But… did _everyone_ know?

'I would care for her husband's wellbeing,' Decima responded coolly, while a coldness washed over Harry. _Her husbands wellbeing_ … Ron's wellbeing. Best friends for nearly fifteen years and _Decima_ is the one to care about his wellbeing.

'That concludes our questions. You may leave, Decima. The effects will wear out shortly. I suggest you do not engage in any conversations until then,' McGonagall advised as the Auror obeyed without a moment's hesitation, leaving the office without as much as a glance at Harry. Harry, who by now was feeling a strong mixture of confused and guilty, the two emotions battling it out for superiority within him. 'You may speak, Harry.'

'She _has_ to be lying, Minerva! Who else could it be?' he blurted out as soon as his promis was fulfilled.

'Oh, I have a few in mind - each as unlikely as the next. You owe Miss Cely an apology, I believe,' McGonagall waved him off as Harry hesitantly bit his tongue not to bombard his Headmistress with further protests, yet his mouth opened to speak all the same. 'Harry. I urge you to use your common sense. Please,' she said before Harry could say anything. The Headmistress' eyes were pleading, the first time he had seen them with such vulnerability. She looked… drained. Sad even. The guilt within him won easily with her stare urging it on, forcing him to turn around and hurry after his former colleague.

* * *

'Decima!' he yelled as he finally caught up with her nearing the edge of the castle grounds. She turned around, a blank and uncaring look on her face.

'Yes?'

'I'm, _er_ \- I think I owe you an apology.'

'Tell me, what would you do if your friend Ron found out?'

'I… _No_ , Decima. Please, don't tell him. _Please_.'

'I won't. I should, but I won't. Answer the question. Would you deny it? Would you swear on it? Would you answer the accusation under Veritaserum?'

'I would tell him. If he confronted me, I would tell him. There would be no need of Veritaserum.'

'And if he asked you about details? What it is exactly you and her do at night? If she likes you better than him?'

'N-no, I would refuse -'

'Would you lie?'

'I don't - I don't know, Decima. I -'

'And if he asked you to drink Veritaserum? Would you do it?'

'NO! I would never want Ron to hear… He would never ask me to do that! We are -'

'Yet, you asked me to do it. I was your friend. More than that, I thought. I trusted you, and I expected you to trust me. _Ron_ trusts you. Save your apologies for him, Harry. You'll need them,' she turned back around to leave with a finality to her words that stopped Harry from responding. He stood there there with his mouth open - unsure of how he could have messed up so badly in so many regards, and in such a short time. It was almost comical…

Snow assaulted him from every direction as he was walking back from what would likely be his last encounter with Decima. His fingers were numb, his ears and nose freezing, and his vision blurred and skewed by the wet glasses. Yet, the cold did not bother him nearly as much as the pain at his core. He had been wrong, severely mistaken despite his unwavering determination and conviction - and not for the first time. How many more were cursed to suffer as a result of his blunders? Visla's whispered words echoed in his head… promising to kill Hermione. Promising to make her hurt… His eyes closed. For a moment, Harry could not tell whether the icy streaks on his cheeks were from the blizzard he was walking in the middle of, or from the freezing tears he was trying to hold back.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

 **Work is hell at the moment. I wont be able to update as often, which really sucks. Hope to find a couple of unexpected messages or reviews in the meantime! I'll miss them too much while not releasing new chapters.**


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